The crashing beat of the waves upon the malleable beach was faster than David’s but his heart fell in line just the same. The uptick in tempo was electric, running counter to his normal experience of walking along the beach. This did, however, fall in line with the general climate of the day, the rainy mist pressing gently against his face but with each lick warning of something a bit more sinister to come.

It was this early morning routine that drew him to this place of familiarity and jarring newness. He walked one of three paths each morning; each staggeringly different from the next but each possessing the same calming ability he craved so dearly to start his day. He was a wanderer of the sidewalk paths within the richly, quaint neighborhood where he imagined a grainy alternate reality amid the lovely hanging tree swings and weathered wood benches. He frequented the cobblestone paths along Main Street, which was altogether unbearable anytime past 7:30 but did harbor his favorite coffee shop. And of course, he had the walk along the beach that he found himself on now.

These walks had drawn him out earlier and earlier ever since the divorce.

Divorce.

Even thinking the word was terribly difficult for David, and as such he found himself saying it in his head over and over again in some desperate attempt to normalize it. It was like a cavity. He continually ran his tongue over the decaying word, hoping to himself that the more he played with it, the more it would dull the pain, and maybe even one day it wouldn’t be there at all. But this morning was not to be that morning. His tongue prodded the idea in his mind gently and it resonated with pain just as it had the very first time.

David had never even considered himself one to be a product of divorce. Maybe that’s what had him so destroyed by it he thought as he removed his shoes. As he stowed his worn Nike shoes under his armpit he knew exactly what he was doing. He was hoping that the cold, rocky sand might distract him from this cyclical thought process he found himself on every morning. Until the uneven beach ground could work it’s magic, he decided he would ponder on. And ponder he did, mulling over his parent’s marriage, and their parent’s marriage, and their parent’s parent’s marriage. Had any of them ever even considered letting their love die? The worst thing was that he hadn’t wanted to. She had left a letter on the table one morning as she left for a business trip in Vancouver.

It’s not that we didn’t have something, Dave. We had love. But to continue to pretend like we still have it doesn’t seem fair to either of us.

She had never been much of a writer, he thought selfishly. That didn’t matter though when the simplicity breaks into your core. And this one had been shattering.