He topples back to contemplate his creation. The towers reach up to the sun and the castle stands firm, sparkling gold. It is good but something is missing. Shells. He stares about him, smacking his hands together then rubbing them on his chest. Grains of sand tickle his skin. Gulls cry overhead, children squeal nearby and the sea sshooshes to him but he doesn’t listen. There. He clambers to his feet and toddles towards them. They are beautiful. He crouches to inspect and pick. That done he staggers up again and turns, brushing the rough sand from his prize. He looks up just in time to see. The ball is flying towards him and one of the bigger children is running after it, not looking where she is going. His masterpiece lies in her path. All he can do is watch as her feet demolish it in seconds.
His wail pierces the air.