She felt the sand shift beneath her feet as the waves rolled in over her toes. Isla closed her eyes, let the setting sun and smell of the ocean settle into her. She had needed this for a long time.
Things had gone sideways since her world fell apart. The life she had known had been wiped away like erasing chalk off a blackboard.
Her parents and siblings had been killed in a plane crash. She was to meet up them in Sarasota, Florida. She had planned on boarding the plane with them there but had been delayed due to jury duty she couldn't get out of.
She was devastated by the news they were all gone. She was now alone. She had no other family.
That had been nine months ago. Nine months in which she'd barely been functional. It had taken weeks to break through the haze of loss until she could even have a rational thought.
Now with the sand shifting beneath her feet, she felt it was a good start on healing from the inside out. She took one last look at the setting sun, turned and walked toward the cottage and new beginnings.
She became aware she was not alone and stopped. She watched as a man walked, head down, feet in the very edges of the ocean, unaware of her presence.
He turned toward the sea and stopped, then walked into the water until it reached mid-calf. He kicked at the water and moved backward onto shore. He turned a complete circle, glancing in all directions, didn't acknowledge her as if he never saw her.
He swung back the way he had come and hurried down the shoreline, vanishing into the waning night.
