The lighthouse spun a long hourglass of light against a starry sky, its beam sweeping over the sand like a heartbeat. The Milky Way looked like a cloud of above it. The dipper glowed bright. The North Star hung still.
I heard the ocean crashing in the darkness as I walked along the beach. The Atlantic waited out there, extending the black sky, big and huge beyond comprehension, only the white foam of breaking waves catching any light.
The lighthouse shrunk as I walked, its flashes fading in the eastern horizon’s glow. The faint beach curved forever behind me and disappeared into the ocean ahead. I walked to the final spit of land, a long tongue of sand stretching into the sea with waves crashing on both sides.
I stood on the thin point of it all, the farthest reach, my toes in the water, and felt like I stood on the prow of some great ship cutting through the ocean. The sky turned red, its color leaking into the ocean, and the Atlantic appeared out of the darkness.
Stars fled. The lighthouse’s spinning hourglass faded. I stood at the end of the earth and watched the sun burn out of the ocean until I couldn’t look at it any more.