Sitting. Watching the orange sun roll beneath the clouds and down the horizon. The strong breeze bullies the water against the rocks. Seagulls float across the sun.
So there they sat. Two sticks. Light-brown in color. Smoothed-over by the water rushing over them. Nothing special about them. They just sat. Just barely getting swept away by the waves.
What you couldn’t hear were their cries for help. The horrific screams were no match for the deep serene. Hanging on to the rocks for dear life. Before long, they were gone. Drifting toward the infinite horizon.