Every evening, the old man walked along the shoreline with the same folding chair in one hand and a bottle in the other. People in the small coastal town knew him as the quiet man who watched the ocean more than he spoke to people. Some said he had lost his family years ago. Others said life had simply worn him down little by little, like waves grinding stone into sand. Nobody really knew. Humans are experts at walking past pain as long as it stays quiet and polite. That evening, the sky was painted orange and purple, the kind of sunset people usually photograph instead of truly seeing. The old man placed his chair near the water and sat down slowly, listening to the waves breathe against the shore. Far above the ocean, something burned across the sky. At first people thought it was a shooting star. Then they realized it was an astronaut capsule falling back toward Earth, damaged and out of control. It struck the ocean miles away with a violent explosion that shook the coast itself. The sea changed instantly. The calm waves became monsters. Sirens screamed from the town behind him as people ran, shouting for everyone near the shore to get away. The water pulled backward unnaturally, exposing rocks and sand no one had ever seen before. The old man looked at it all quietly. Then he looked at the sunset one more time. The massive wave rising in the distance looked taller than buildings, dark enough to erase the horizon itself. People were crying and running past him, but he did not move. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was at peace. Maybe he understood something the others did not. He simply leaned back into his chair. As the roaring water raced toward the shore, the old man lifted his bottle slightly toward the sky, almost like a final toast to the world. To the sunsets he had watched. To the memories he never spoke about. To the life that hurt him and carried him at the same time. The wave reached the beach with the sound of the world ending. For one brief second, he closed his eyes and smiled. Then the ocean swallowed him whole. The next morning, pieces of the town were gone. Boats rested in broken streets, and silence covered the coast like fog. But people remembered the old man. Not because he died. Because in the face of terror, he chose to spend his final moment exactly how he wanted: sitting beside the ocean he loved, drink in hand, watching the sky. #life #fyp #fyppppppppppppppppppppppp #2k26lyrics #sunday - @wombat510