Niche

He didn't fit anymore.

Two years, a continent away. A lifetime away.

Now he knew the caress of waves along his shell, fish kisses on his skin. He used to rest on the sequestered beach, basking in moonlight as the ocean carved a brother in the sand beneath him.

During the day, the sand would crumble inward and fill the impression. By nightfall, it was gone. Erased.

He knew the futility of trying to recreate what once was; it was easier to let the foaming water design something better suited to the ever shifting currents.

A new niche.

Perfect.