Part One of a Short Story

This is a reworking of a story I wrote a few years ago. I'm trying to improve on it, as previously it was utter rubbish. This is the first part of the new version. I would be really grateful for any critcism on it.

I sat in southern France before an outstretched sea, with waves reaching far beyond the utmost bound of human thought. Sand spread for miles to either side of my human eye. It was not golden, not crisp, not perfect in any possible manner, yet real, and in touch with the living world.

            Watching water rise and fall before me, seemingly tranquil, peaceful, calm to my unburdened eye, reminded me of those poor women who met their downfalls by such a powerful natural feature: Ophelia and Nina. I sympathised with their tragic lives. I sympathised with them for not having the love shown to them that they greatly needed. But I was content that I was in no such unhappy state myself.

            Beside me a young man sat and wrapped his arms around my slight waist, drawing me in closely to his body.  My head softly leant against his broad shoulder. I felt safe, and cared for, two emotions I had long yearned to feel. I heard our two hearts beating together, as if one day they could become one and our souls entwine. We could mould together, like the point at which the sea and sky meet to make one everlasting horizon.

            We were Amleth and Aurora. Two young people with no words needed to be spoken, no kisses needed to be shared. Just gentle gazes and thoughts which filled our worlds. He looked upon me as Romeo might have done the first time he saw Juliet, as if he were astounded by such beauty. I was no beauty but for what his eyes beheld.

            As our time together ended we pulled apart from one another, reluctantly, and sat for some minutes watching the waves crash against the rocks further along the land. The sun began to lower in the sky. We stood and strolled beside each other until we reached our families.

            We met the same each day. Sometimes we talked and learned of the separate lives we led, and others, we sat wrapped in each others thoughts.

            I returned one day to the beach to find him not there, not waiting for me as he usually did. I sat and waited to see if he would come, but he did not, and I felt a heartbreaking emptiness. I trundled away from the beach and there I saw him running towards me.

            "I am sorry I did not come," he said. "And I am sorry for this, too."

            "For what?" I asked, partially worried at what he would say.

            "I am leaving now. My sister back at home has been involved in a car accident and has been badly injured." A silent sadness crept across his brow. "We are leaving this very moment."

            I had nothing to say. He turned and began to hurry away, but he stopped and spoke one final time. "I will find you again one day." And with that he left, with no fleeting glance, the one thing I sincerely hoped for.