It's the soft whisper of the wind on her skin, the soft sun kissed tan, one hundred sunsets and a hundred more and a hundred more. Days to years.

The feel of the grainy sand beneath her bare toes and the children shouting on the beach. The pilgrims come and go. She breaths in and she breaths out. Breaths she never counted on. Eighteen then nineteen.

An entire life she had never thought to plot out. She was to be gone now. Only a metal shell replica was to remain in the temples, in hearts, in laughter.

She doesn't laugh, but she doesn't stop breathing either.

There are weddings she never thought she'd see and music she never thought she'd hear. Bonfires and thank yous, gifts and prayers. People come from all over the world to see her. She smiles and waves and says kind words, but all the time she is thinking of stars and waves and all the things she never thought she would have time for.

But mostly she is alone. Alive in a place she was never intended to exist. Life goes on, she muses but for her it is only sunsets and sand, alone on a beach she once though she would never to return to.

A living savior, set apart from the people of the world, lacking a goal, lacking a plan. Alone she stands as the waves lap at her feet.

One hundred sunsets and a hundred more and a hundred more. Days to years.

Waiting for someone to save her.