He came in on a little boat and sat by the shore. He didn't look tired for someone who'd been rowing. Perhaps he hadn't been too far away. I could see the patterns his back muscles made through his thin shirt. I could see the dark brown of his neck, like clay before you make a pot. He sat with his back to me, knees drawn to his chest, staring into the sea.

The waves came and broke a little away from him and then meekly went away. The setting sun cast a glow on him. I looked at his back for a while, but he didn't move and he didn't turn. After a while, a dog came and sat by his side. He petted it in a distant manner, where the affection and the attention was doled out with care so as to not waste any of it.

In the warmth that the world bathes in after the sun has gone, he turned around and looked at me in the eye. I felt a slight flutter and my face twisted itself into what I think was a smile. He nodded and raised his hand a little bit. He knew I was watching all along, a stalker in beach slippers. 

Then he got onto his boat and moved away, slicing the water, until all he became was a speck in the sea.