His tears flavor the salty sea as he stands silently on the shore, watching the clouds gather on the horizon. A growing storm blocks out the sun, and he feels the electricity in the air. A solitary man gazes out over the sea; his sobs blend with the distant thunder.
John has worked since he was fifteen, driven by a need for recognition and approval. He built a life on money and labor, defining his existence one success after another. Confidently, he believed there was plenty of time to meet a good woman and have 2.5 smart children. He delayed his plans to see Paris and Egypt for one of the coming tomorrows, unaware that this day would be here so soon. At this moment, shame rushes over him as he acknowledges he didn’t call his mother on her birthday. Sure, his secretary sent a gift, but he was too busy to sign the card or take the minutes to talk to her. That is all she ever wanted.
Hope is gone, and John acknowledges that he is the real villain of his own life. His whole existence has been putting success and money in front of the truly important things, waiting for enough time or more money. The agony of regret is more intense than the pain that brought John to the salty shore of a billion tears. The drive that made him famous so young was the same ambition that brought him here to this moment. The tears dry with the recognition that it is too late, as he watches the small wooden boat approach in the distance. Now he understands a donation to charity is an empty gesture when done for the press release. All that is left is a news announcement for a funeral, attended by people who never really knew him or cared. A business will never miss him, and money doesn’t cry. John feels a deep ache for a sincere emotion from someone who carries a ghost of resemblance. Too late, everything is too late. He steps aboard the boat and pays the toll with the single coin found in his hand. His almost silent voice swears if he ever has a chance to return, time won’t be wasted on tomorrows.