Sprawled on the burning sand, two lone figures drank in the heat of the sun. All along the extensive beach, from one horizon to the other, there was only them - Them and the seagulls. They did not talk as they lay on their thick towels. They only closed their eyes and breathed.

The ocean beat gently against the shore, and the clouds wandered lonely across the heavens. The heat of the glaring sun was visible as it rose off of the fine sand, and it was a wonder that the two figures did not acknowledge the unbearable heat. Slowly, they roasted to a fine, burnished colour, and then, finally, they rose as one.

With no visible communication, the two left their towels behind them as they padded off to the sea. The water cooled their sweltering feet, and they dove into the embracing waves. Without any other thoughts, the two people struck out towards the deeper and cooler ocean.

Behind them, the beach grew fainter and fainter. They abandoned the breaststrokes, and simply took to floating along peacefully on their backs. They either didn't notice or didn't care as the receding tide pulled them away from the land. The sky darkened, taking on a fine, burnished colour as the sun burnt the horizon. One of the figures noticed, and tried to turn back toward land, but the other grabbed her hand, and laid her flat again. Panic didn't occur, they knew their fate.

The once-embracing waves carried them farther and further from their beach, their towels, and their simple lives. They drifted until the water grew fiercely cold, and then they both sank into the depths, leaving only a few bubbles trailing from their mouths.

The towels looked black in the dim light, and they waited patiently for their owners to return. The waves drew closer to the strips of cloth, and sometime in the night, the water tugged the towels away toward the opposite horizon. The towels followed their owners to the bottom of the sea.