Returned Empty

Alimitless expanse of opal sea, calm and unruffled, reflecting the crimson and gold of the sky, as the sun went down behind pine woods and moors.

A clear-cut line of cliffs, rising sheer from the stretch of golden sands.

Whirling white wings, as the gulls, shrieking in hungry chorus, swooped to the fringe of the outgoing tide.

A narrow path, skirting the edge of the cliffs, all among the pungent fragrance of gorse and heather and yellow bracken.

Along this path, on a warm September evening, swu...