I bend to scoop the sand into my palm, clutching tightly, the tiny grains warm within my grasp. The ocean is calm, gently nudging my toes as though reminding me of its presence, begging to be noticed. It is persistent.
I look back to my fist, prompted by the renewed emptiness inside, capturing a glimpse of the last grains of sand as they trickle from between my fingers. They lay to rest at my feet; before, behind, or beside me - I could not be sure. I never did find out, nor did I care. They were never mine to hold.