Last this day

I feel it in the back of my neck, this empty feeling of dread. It spreads slowly, coursing in my veins and I tremble with the knowledge of what is about to come.

It ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

How meaningful that quote is now, and how bitterly true. The sun's last rays hit us, and the shoreline is visible against the twilight. The mixture of purple and orange is brilliant, but I fail to appreciate the beauty of the sky as tears blur my vision. We're so very silent now, as the boat rocks back and forth. The sound of waves fill my ears, their splashes distracting but reality is there, in the salty taste of tears that stream down my cheeks.
For a bizarre moment, I am purely convinced that if we never make it ashore, if we halt the boat here, we won't end.
Then the sun finally sets, and sitting in the dark hue cast upon the wooden deck, I know it has ended, ended before I could blink.