You pick up this shell, and you give it to me. It isn't anything special, really. Just this ordinary beach shell that you picked up from the shore line.

"Keep this," you say.
"Why?" I ask.
"It'll remind you of me."
"Because we're the beach."
"No, we're on a be-"
"No. No, listen. See. It's perfect, isn't it? You never really think about it. How important the sand and the sea are. To each other, I mean. How they go together. How the sea stretches on forever and ever, and way past the sky, and yet keeps coming back, always, back to kiss the shoreline. All those waves. Travelling thousands and thousands of miles. Just to finally reach the shore, and then be dragged out again, on this never ending cycle of finding and losing their love. And it truly is beautiful, really, when you think about it. But you don't often, do you? Not really. And it's very life changing. Really. Because now I've told you this, every time you come to a beach, you'll think of this. This very day. You'll remember that the sea is perfect for the sand. And you'll smile. And this shell - this shell, right here, in this moment, that has existed for probably thousands of years, travelling to and from it's only love - this shell will be right there with you. And won't that be wonderful? You'll have it. A token of the beach's love. How beautiful." 

You picked up this shell, and you gave it to me. It was really something special. This beautiful, beautiful shell that was in love with the shore line. 

The End

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