Reverently removing his boots, he arranged them neatly beside his bike. The mid-day asphalt was scorching through his socks.
As he neared the edge of the precipice, the sea spray blew cold. Sitting on the lip of the cliff, he looked out over the water, squinting in the bright sun. His saddle bag was on the ground next to him.
The pillbox was in the bottom of the bag, and he had to rummage to find it. Tossing it from hand to hand, he finally came to a decision.
Opening it with a push, he let loose her ashes.