The salty sea wind gently tossed her dark hair back, much like her lover Alfons used to. It had been three months since his last letter, and four long months since she’d felt his kiss on her lips.

She stared out at the horizon, eyes squinting, heart hoping that his ship would appear, and that he would jump off the bow, run across the sand, and sweep her up in his arms. She pictured the gentle pressure around her waist, the coarseness of his curly brown hair through her fingers, his roughly shaven beard prickling her smooth cheeks.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The ship wouldn’t arrive today.

She clenched her fist and turned around to head back to her house, and a soft, but empty bed.