The dry breeze stings my face.
This sand, this air, are slowly choking the life out of me. I want to get back to my old life. I had power, I had purpose, but most importantly, I had freedom. Here, I feel trapped. My injuries did not kill me, merely forced me to retire. However, I wish I had died before I retired. I wish I was buried at the sea, like a true captain.
I long for the darkness to find me, as much as I long for the sea mist to caress my face, one last time.
Word Count: 99