The last day of our holiday.
A seagull shat a pancake of turd on the path then flew sunwards over the caravan as I listened to him sleep. He breathed a sudden door rattling intake then released a slow relentless wheeze. A decade I’d been coming here and lying next to that. I could stand no more.
It stopped, the bedroom door opened and he joined me at the table.
Scraped the pattern off the bowl as he ate.
“D’you fancy a walk along the cliffs?”
It sounded like a perfect ending.