As twilight cloaks the shore in its somber embrace, the neon sign flickers with a crimson prophecy: "The End is here." The pier, once a vibrant artery of laughter and footsteps, stands desolate, a testament to the silence that now reigns. The sea, an endless void beyond, whispers of voyages unreturned, of depths that cradle secrets too heavy for the light. This is where hope once danced at the edge of the horizon, where dreams set sail beneath starlit skies. Now, the darkness seems to hold its breath, the world pausing at the precipice of the unknown. The only witness, a solitary bench, bears the weight of unseen watchers, ghostly spectators to the closing act. The end is here, not just a place, but a moment in time, suspended between the was and the will be.