Unshaven and out the door, the man is slipping through streets without being seen, the days are becoming numbered with chances few and far between. Daily the young men pound hard on the wooden door, shouting cursed names and spitting through the bars, the money that’s theirs was drunken many days ago. The dirty hands that used to work their magic, slown, it’s over old man an era gone, nothing left of a distant memory known, So scared looking over his shoulder, he doesn’t see them coming, grabbed by the neck and dragged down to the waters edge. the noise of the men, shout and storm, onlookers head down.
Faced down he remembers his wifes hair and gentle hand, the boys surround him, hurt him and put him into the sunshine sea to drown.