He stands at the end of the wharf and closes his eyes. The spindrift splashes his unshaven face, clinging to the stubble on his cheeks and chin. He inhales deeply, and it's the scent of her that carries into his nostrils. She always did smell of the sea, clean and wet and fresh. He staves off a sob.
"Why?" he shouts, falling to his knees. "Why?" he whispers.
The only response is the soft murmur of the wind, humming a melody he recognizes. Her favorite song. It was the last time he ever heard her voice.
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