The verging clouds on the horizon were black. It would rain soon, though this wasn't any different from most days. The clouds directly overhead had thinned and parted, letting the sun briefly beat the backs of the chilled and weary. They shifted constantly, shedding the sun's light and warmth on some and shadowing others.
It was this brief moment of peace that England decided to take a little trip.
The clouds were black out to sea, too. Ominous with the threat of downpour, every second creeping a little closer to the shore. There was a definite calm, though, and England sauntered to the first patch of warmth he saw. He took off his shoes, stuffed his socks in the toes and cast them aside. The sand was dry that far up the beach, though the tide was slowly creeping up. He wiggled his toes in the sand, and shivered as the sun warmed his skin and back. Taking a breath of the cool, salty air, he sighed.
He rolled up the cuffs of his pants and walked to another patch of light just kissing the tide. He let the water lap his feet, the sand hugging his toes and heels with each wave.
He stepped back and sat with his knees to his chest, hands spread out, watching the water demolish the footprints that had taken several waves of effort to create. Within two waves there was no trace.
The water came higher and higher, lapping his toes, his soles, his heels, his seat, his hands. The sea came above his ankles, splashing his rolled-up cuffs. Every recession left him farther down in the sand. The water chilled him to the bone, the soaked sand a relief between waves.
The sky rumbled, soft and rolling. A drop fell next to his hand that was planted in the sunken sand, and another in the incoming wave. Another two on his knee, and yet another on his cheek. They surged the beach, the once dry sand saturated and darkened. His hair fell limp and stuck to his forehead.
The fun was over. Doors closed and chatter waned until only the patter of rain on the ground and rooftops remained. The drops' sharp tapping against the water layered over the sound of the crashing waves like a poorly mixed soundtrack.
England was completely and utterly at peace.
And he began to cry.