The wide expanse of the beach was golden in places, nearer white in others. The dunes were layered with browns and reds and topped with the yellows and greens of the tenacious plants that held on against the shifting nature of their footholds and the raw power of the weather that shaped the coast.

This late afternoon, however, was calm. The retreated sea showed only minor ruffles and the pure, cornflower blue of the sky was enhanced by the streaks of cloud, rather than marred by their presence.

They sat together in comfortable silence; the pile of driftwood collected during their earlier walk at their feet, awaiting a spark. In the meantime, they waited. Waited and watched the sun sink towards the far away horizon, so wide you could practically see it curve. They watched the fierce pinks, oranges and yellows painted across the canvas of the sky, and saw them fade, first to pastels, then there was only the deep midnight blue of night.

As the first stars flickered back into existence, they lit the fire.