The lighthouse keeper stared at the horizon. Five lines. The sea was unusually calm and it was bitter cold. His mind wandered back to that day. The sea wasn't calm then and it wasn't cold but he felt it at the back of his neck like a knife. The body was out there. He knew exactly where. Five years ago. Each year, on that day, he would stand up there. He didn't know how. He never noticed when. But he knew she came from the sea to carve another line on his arm, a reminder of what he had done.