Flip flop, flip flop, I walk my way out of the surf shop.

“Have a great swim, dude!” the store clerk with a shaggy mane calls out behind me. Even if we just met and I’m a mare, we’re apparently ‘bros’ now.

I wave back at him, the flipper on my hoof waggling in the air. “Thanks!” I cry, stumbling as I put my hoof down again.

The wet suit clings to my body, suffocating it. Using magic, I put my goggles down over my amber eyes and immediately they fog up. Snorkel in my mouth, I feel a little paranoid about each and every breath I take.

It’d be worth it though, it always is.

I waddle my way down the pier, nearly tripping down the last few steps to the water. Sitting myself on the edge of the wooden planks, I take a deep breath and plunge myself into the ocean. Protected from the wretched salt water, my eyes can see the beauty that lays below the surface. The sun’s rays shine down into the drink, like magical curtains flowing.

There was no way I was heading into open waters to be sure; I was heading for somewhere a little more interesting. It takes a little bit of a swim down the coast but eventually I find the hidden garden.

And what a sight for non-salty, not sore eyes it was.

Coral of all shapes, sizes and colors clung to the rocky outcrop beneath the waves. The gentle current makes them waver slowly, as if they were dancing to a sweet melody. Some of them were short and round, a bit like your average flower on land. Others were long, branching out. A few even looked like arteries. Unrestricted by such a simple terrain as ‘earth’, the coral was allowed to grow in any direction it wanted. It looked irregular, even a bit crowded.

To the teeming hordes of fish below, however, it was home. I was just a guest, a fact I was constantly reminded by my snorkel needing to be in the air at all times. I couldn’t afford proper scuba gear and ‘Dudebro’ at the shack was unaffected by my Heartstrings charms.

Resigned to the surface, the best I could do was hold my breath and dive for moments at a time. My flippers finally gained a semblance of elegance, letting me swim faster and with my control. I swam over the rocks, a small canyon forming in the middle of it all, where fish fed and hid. I think I even saw glimpse of an eel show itself from its hole.

It’s not long before I have to go up for air. Taking the snorkel out of my mouth, I spit out that disgusting salty water. I wrinkled my muzzle, the taste still in my mouth. Eugh. Maybe if sea water didn’t taste so bad, seaponies might have existed.

At least technology fills the gap. I dive back down, waving to the fish below. I try not to take it personally how quickly they turn away from me. My body brushes up against some of the rocks here and there but, thanks to my stuffy wetsuit, I’m unharmed.

Aah! Actually, no, I think that’ll leave a mark in the morning. Ow.

Not that a simple scratch or a bruise would be enough to deter from experiencing this magical world.

A stitch in my gut might, though.

I roll my eyes, cursing myself for my inability to resist ice cream and candy.

---

When I get back, ‘Dudebro’ is waiting for me at the surf shack.

“That didn’t take you too long. You run into a shark or something?” he asks as I approach, all my gear levitating beside me.

I feel my cheeks heat up. “Something like that, yeah,” I reply, forcing a laugh.

“Well, there’s always next week,” he says, taking some of the gear from me and putting it away.

“I’ll definitely stay down there longer when the time comes.” Smiling at him, I help him with putting the rest of the gear away.

That settled, we head to the entrance of the shop and Dudebro leans against a propped up surfboard. “Ever considered surfing?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Hay no. I don’t come here for the thrills.” That said, my balance when standing bipedal was better than most…

He shrugs. “Fair enough. I’ll catch you later, bro.”

“Later.” Casually waving at him, I set off for the sand dunes behind the shake. Traversing a narrow path between them, I come to a lot where wagons had been parked. I go over to mine, a little, worn thing designed for one pony to pull along. It had your average wear and tear but on the left side? I’d cut a love heart into it, years ago.

From the wagon I get out a large basket and make my way back down the beach. The sun was still shining strongly, although it was just beginning its descent. On the soft sands, gatherings of ponies had assembled. Young, old, families… couples. The beach welcomed everyone.

It took a little walking down the beach but eventually I found a relatively free spot to plant my things. Opening my basket, I got out a tartan rug, which I tied to the sand by sticking rods through holes in its corners. Next, I grabbed the all important accessory: shades. My cool factor firmly established, I laid on my back and took in the sun’s rays.

Every week I take a day off just for this. It’s a ritual, something I feel I have to do. I don’t, not really. It’s a bit pointless in the grand scheme of things. Nevertheless, I’m always here, each week.

Plus the sun does wonders for my coat. It makes it shine, almost like I’m a crystal pony. I have always wondered if I was descended from them...

All around me, it’s like a messy orchestra. Ponies talking, fillies and colts laughing, the occasional shout or cheer, all against the backdrop of the waves smashing against the beach. Lying there, eyes closed, I couldn’t help but feel detached from it all. But that was the point, after all. Coming here each week with anypony else felt… wrong.

Maybe I’ll go paddling in the ocean later. I did go diving but there’s something else to paddling. Something childish, innocent. Trying to jump over the waves and not getting any water in your eyes. Just being totally carefree.

I feel a yawn coming on so that can wait for later. For now, the sun coats me in a warm blanket, setting me up nice and snug for a good nap.

---

The sun slowly descends, kissing the horizon, streaking the ocean with a orange glow. A little like my eyes, really. Most of the beachgoers had left, the last few either packing up and staying to quietly enjoy the sunset.

Sitting up, I delve back into my basket. It has everything I need for a picnic. Sandwiches, snacks and drinks. It’s nothing fancy. It never needs to be.

I put down a plate and load it up with food, then fill a glass with some wine, levitating it so it never spills. I hesitate. There’s something missing.

I place the photo opposite me and stare out at the ocean.

The sea can be many things to many different ponies. A provider of food, a vast mysterious expanse that needs to be explored, a magical world full of colors to dazzle the eyes, or somewhere just nice to swim.

It’s also a thief. Anything that disappears below the waves is rarely found again. The tides churn its prizes relentlessly, or the dangerous beasts that lurk in the dark make off with it. It’s bottomless and it isolates you. Ponies are not welcome out on the waves but we never seem to learn.

I gaze back to the photo opposite me. Wait, a speck of sand on it. I brush it off. I’d never allow her to become tarnished.

“Almost a year, can you believe it, Bon Bon?” I ask her. I don’t want to believe. Yet I can’t resist the inevitability of it all.

Of course the photo doesn’t respond. It’s a memory, a freeze frame of Bon Bon in her prime. I’ll always have her smile to look on, if not her gentle touch.

“A year since you went out, over the ocean,” I said. A pang inside urged me to take a bite of my sandwich. I took a deep breath and savored the taste.

“One last mission, you said. Just one. Then no more agent business. You’d be done for good and then we’d be back to normal.”

I placed my sandwich back down, drinking more wine. There’s silence between us, save for the waves on the shore.

Gingerly I pick her up. Stroking a hoof over her features, I close my eyes and try to remember her touch. Her smell. Her laugh. The images in my mind break with each time the waves hit the shore.

Sighing, I ask her why. Why did she have to leave me? Why was it, on this one job, she didn’t make it? Was I not good enough for her? All this time, was there a wanderlust deep within that I could never sate?

I place her down, facing her towards the ocean. Too many unanswered questions. They’d do me no good. I doubt they’ll ever go away but as long as I ignore them, I won’t hurt any more.

Maybe I could answer her questions though.

“Do you know why I come here, every week?” I ask her. “I should hate the ocean. You got lost out there, or perhaps even beyond. The last time I ever saw your face was here, before you set upon that boat.”

I stare out across the waves. It’s so vast, so deep, so dark. “The first few weeks, I wanted nothing to do with this place. All I wanted to do was stay indoors, crawled up in my bed, pretend nothing had ever happened and that you’d bring me out of my dark place.”

I laughed, bitterly. “Miracles like that don’t really exist though, I realized. Even without my partner, I eventually realized, my story carries on. And… I wanted to honor your memory.”

Picking her up again, I place her in my forehooves and we both looked at the amber horizon. “You’ve faced many monsters, most of them probably bigger than yourself. I can never do that but I can still be brave, like you, in my own way. So each week I come here, face to face with the entity that took you from me.”

My horn glows and I bring out the last item in my basket. My lyre. “And it gave me inspiration. The ocean is full of wonders, horrors and more. Some of those things I’ve written into song. I play those songs to many ponies, in Ponyville, Canterlot and elsewhere. I like to think that with each performance, a little piece of you is going out to them.”

I rub at my eyes. Some sand likely got in them. “I guess I’m being a little silly though. This is all just a coping mechanism.”

Bon Bon says nothing, so I hold her tighter to my chest. She’s safer there.

“Or maybe I’m delusional and think that someday, somehow, I’ll see you again, over the horizon. You’ll step onto land and the first thing I’ll do is wrap you up, as tight as I can! Then I’ll smother you with affection because I miss you so much! Then you’ll laugh and call me your silly minty mare.”

I sniff and put away the food and finish off my wine. Didn’t feel too hungry anyway. Setting Bon Bon beside me, I grab my lyre in my hooves and start to play one of the tunes I wrote. For her and for everyone.

We stay there together until the sun disappears, over the edge of the horizon, to greet distant shores.