Sarah stood on the shore’s edge looking out to sea. Dark, angry clouds broiled low over the horizon, threatening to consume the last streaks of orange as twilight gradually approached. A warm, soft breeze played at her hair and dried the moistness from her cheeks, refreshing her somewhat. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans and sighed gently, letting the moment of pure calm wash over her like the waves that lapped at her feet. Sarah loved this place: its smells, its sounds, and the ever-changing landscape. It was a refuge she came to when the world disappointed her, and now she turned to this peaceful haven again. It was restorative after Michael had taken so much away. So much, it seemed. Had she not stood on this spot just three months ago, the churning of angry surf dispersing her own turbulent feelings? Sarah did not like to think about that. It was cancerous. This idyllic retreat was no place to have such bad thoughts and she chastised herself for entertaining them.

She turned her attention to a lone seagull gliding high on the warm currents of air that precluded the storm. Wings outstretched, it hung effortlessly, shrilling in defiance at the approaching clouds. Sarah wondered what it would be like to have that total freedom, to be beholden to nothing and no one. Many a time she wished she could just get up and leave – to fly away like a fledgling. What that must feel like. A rebirth. To have the chance to start over again and do things differently, without … but there were those dangerous thoughts again, intruding upon the calm whenever her guard weakened. Just lately they seemed so potent, though. So provocative.

More determinedly, Sarah shrugged away the unwelcome thoughts and focused on the seagull. It dipped a wing and dropped to within four feet of the gentle waves, shrieking all the while. It appeared to be watching something on the water’s surface – a distressed fish or perhaps nothing more than a flash of silver, for the next moment it was swooping up into the sky, wings working with unfaltering beats. Behind Sarah feet crunched on the dry shingle but she ignored the sound, eyes still fixed on the seagull; now further away, flying off into the distance without a preordained destination. Sarah felt envious of the gull’s departure, envious and a little sad. It was leaving her for the unknown, a blank page that would be written as it went. If only she could float up, to ascend over the sea and have the whole sky as her playground, free of the emotional bonds that secured her to the ground. How would that feel?

If only she could follow the gull.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

Sarah turned and smiled weakly at the man. ‘Yes. I think so.’ She sniffled and looked back over the sea, indifferent to any conversation. The bird was out of sight now, and she dropped her shoulders with regret.

He stepped alongside her to share the view. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a calm sea before. It looks like glass.’

Sarah searched the sky for the gull. Distractedly, she said, ‘the calm before the storm.’

The man fidgeted and ground his feet into the shingle. ‘I don’t like this time. It’s too oppressive. I get that headache and it makes me irritable.’

‘I love this moment. It’s so quiet, so peaceful,’ she said almost in a whisper. ‘There’s going to be a perfect storm - you can feel it coming, smell the electricity in the air. Everything has stopped, waiting for it to pass.’

He chuckled at her words. ‘I think you’re romanticising a bit.’

Sarah looked at him sharply. ‘No. Can’t you feel it? Everything is so still you can hear your own heartbeat.’

‘All I hear is the sea.’ He raised his arm around Sarah’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps your heart beats louder for me.’

She deliberately moved a step forward and his arm fell away. ‘I’m not kidding,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s a good time to do some thinking, to find yourself in it.’

He took a submissive step back and raised his face to the clouds. ‘But I’m not lost, Sarah.’ There was a slight tremor to his voice.

She took a deep breath and gazed across the horizon, still looking for the seagull. The sky was darkening rapidly now, and she guessed that with the approaching storm it was the last she would see of the bird. She momentarily felt a pang of inexplicable loss at that, and again she yearned for the freedom to have followed it.

‘I know you’re not,’ she said softly. ‘But I am. I was.’

‘What does that mean?’

Sarah dropped her gaze, for once not needing to find the answers in the vastness of the sea. ‘It means I’m tired, Michael. I’m tired of all this.’

‘All what?’

She turned to him and regretted it instantly. He stood facing her, the weariness of the last few hours visibly apparent in his stance. Dark lines etched his pale face, making him look years older. Sarah gasped, as much at his appearance as at the single rose that he held out to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Sarah turned away. She had to be strong now, and she could not be that if she was looking at him. ‘It’s not working. I’m sorry but it’s not working, Michael. We’ve tried but…’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know you are darling,’ Sarah choked, ‘but that’s not good enough anymore.’

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. They both listened in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

‘It was just an argument, Sarah. We’ve had them before,’ Michael said eventually.

She turned her back to him, seeking comfort in the darkening clouds. ‘It’s not the arguments, Michael; it’s what they’re about. You know that as well as I do.’

He took a step towards her. ‘So what? That’s it. You want to end it here? Don’t do this, Sarah. We can work it out.’

She was shaking her head - shaking out the seeds of doubt he always managed to plant. The first fat drops of rain hit the water and cooled her stinging face. ‘Not anymore. Let’s face it; we can’t work it out anymore. It’s not fair on either of us.’

‘Sarah.’

‘No Michael.’

A clap of thunder boomed above their heads, and the rain fell heavier.

‘Come inside, Sarah. We’ll talk about this.’ Michael’s voice sounded further away, as though he was receding into the distance.

‘There’s nothing to say. We did all our talking this morning,’ she cried after him.

‘Come inside, you’re getting soaked.’

Just then a scream came behind her left shoulder. She looked around, desperately trying to locate the source of the cry. The seagull swooped from out of the bleakness and cut across the front of her, shrieking angrily out to the storm, or perhaps, Sarah thought, calling for her. Then it disappeared into the gloom, its cry consumed by the downpour.

Despite the raging storm and torrential rain, Sarah lifted her head and laughed up to the swirling clouds.

‘I’m leaving, Michael,’ she shouted at the top of her voice, ‘I’m going to be free as a bird.’