The man in the faded suit sat alone on a dilapidated park bench, contemplating the rising sun. For one who had no recollection of the past twelve hours, he was remarkably calm. He shifted, deeply inhaling the sea air, and the bench creaked under his weight.
“Frank.” The deep voice was accompanied by heavy footsteps, and a hand descended upon the man’s shoulder. Even before turning, Frank knew knew who it was.
“How are you, Sam.” He rose to accept the proffered handshake, and then returned to his seat as Sam settled onto the bench next to him.
“You’re on the news,” Sam noted, adjusting his uniform. “I should really tell them that I’ve found you.”
“You always say that.”
“Maybe this time it’s true. Do you know where you’ve been? I didn’t think so. I’d never forgive myself for bringing you in, but Jesus, Frank. You should get help.”
Frank sighed. “I can’t leave all of this. You know they’d never let me see the ocean again.”
The two men sat in silence. A sailboat slowly came into view, drifting north in the gentle breeze. Sam turned to look at Frank, who was still peering into the horizon, and then shifted his gaze back to the water. “I can’t argue with that.”
After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, Sam cleared his throat and stood. “I’ve gotta get back to the station. Try to take care of yourself, Frank.”
Frank nodded, still fixated on the ocean. Sam hesitated a moment, shook his head, and turned away.
The man in the faded suit watched the stranger walk into the distance, and then returned his attention to the sea.