The radios are silent. The only music left are the sounds of frogs and the wind. The bonfires have all burned to black ashes. Smoldering bar-b-que grills fill the air with the smell of burned hot dogs. The beach is littered with wet towels, blankets and empty beer cans. I feel so alone.

Across the beach the waning moon of August silhouettes your body as you remove your swim suit and walk into the water. You turn to face me and a reflection of light surrounds you. I go to you and our naked souls touch. I have been found.