A widower, they call him. He supposes, technically, that's what he is. An elderly man, a life alone for the better part of ten years.
He looks without seeing into the sea that laps at his feet. His shoes soak through, and dimly he feels without feeling. Gently, calling to him, the tide rolls in and out, hypnotic. He finds himself drawn in, unable to quench the urge to touch the waves, feel them without falling.
A widower, and a life of lonely misery.
With calculating steps, he begins his walk, pausing only once to glance back at the shore.