Now the beach is silent. The sea, however, is more fierce, more agitated. It is rough, misbehaved. Maybe it feels lonely, now that no one seemed to be around to admire its beauty, to bathe in it, to make it feel grand, loved, feared, marvelled at. Maybe, even with its vast magnitude, it feels friendless, just like she does, surrounded by a horde of humans, yet isolated in her own world. She could stare at the sea for hours. She found a companion in the sacrosanct image of the vast expanse of water that held so much power and prestige, was confident and proud, surreal and breathtaking. It was misjudged at times, considered to be brutal and uncontrollable, because of the way the water was always playing around, creating those perfect pretty waves and how it hit the rocks with viciousness, but she knew that very feeling warmly spreading through her body, gently intertwining itself with her nerves and bones as she peered into the immeasurable depth of what the sea held, probing for answers, recognizing a connection, was what it intended to portray itself as. There was nothing, or nobody, she’d ever encountered in her life, that she could relate to as well as the sea. She understood why the sea was raging, why the shore fumed at the waves, why the water was so furious, why there was so much anger. Just like with the sea, her days too are always full of people, busy, happy, chirpy, sunny. They’re there to play, to love, to cherish, to make memories. But when the night befalls and the darkness spreads, the throng magically disappears, leaving her empty, lonely, vulnerable. Why do they all leave? She often questions herself. The sea looks the prettiest at this time. So why do they all seek shelter just when it begins to put on its magnificent show? She will never understand.
Now he comes and sits beside her, lets his feet get painted in the hue of the sand of the beach and then washed by the waters. He lies on his back, and puts his arms under his head for support. As she gazes into the sea, he counts the stars. The couple of faintly shining stars in the city are no match for this sky alight with the joy of a thousand stars he attempts to count. An airplane in the distant sky intrudes the serenity of the cloudless night. Could someone be flying off in the plane to meet love or achieve dreams? Possibly. He watches the plane disappear out of sight into the dark blue pre-dawn sky, a little below the crescent moon. He turns his attention back to the stars and concentrates on the calming effect of the sound of crashing waves that engulfs him. He spots the brightest star in the vast sky, and closes his eyes. He believes that that moment is illusory; he, fictitious, the stars, surreal. That part of his life is detached from the reality, and plays like a movie in another realm. He thinks that such power and beauty could only exist in a parallel universe, where he’s free from all that brings pain to him. Therefore, he can pretend the star is a wish bestowed upon him, and he wishes with all his mighty heart something he has always coveted. He doesn’t know if he’ll get it, but right now, he’s at peace with himself. The object of his desire, however, is still engrossed in the enchanting beauty of the sea, barely aware of his unspoken wish. In a few minutes, the sun will make an appearance at the very end of the water body, when both will wake up from their reveries and marvel at the joy it brings.