The water steadily lapped against the rocks, washing them with foam with each new wave. He stood off to one side, staring at the ocean, yet not quite seeing it. The sound of the water lulled his brain and the wind blew away his troubles.
For a few minutes, it was as though it had never happened. He was still living with his wife, happily enjoying the beginning of their marriage. Abruptly looking down at his toes that were digging their way into the sand, he remembered that was buried deep in the past, nearly five years had passed since they had embarked on their honeymoon.
Now he stood staring at the ocean, wishing his temper hadn’t gotten the best of him. Wishing his wife were still alive. Wishing he were not a killer at heart, though he knew that’s what the media was bound to call him as soon as they found out.
Friday Fictioneers, 27 May 2016
Photo prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields