Retirement had always been the goal, the dream. For years it was what drove Mark to get out of bed everyday. That promise of a day he wouldn’t have to get out of bed if he didn’t want to. He had to admit, he missed work, and the people at work. However much he missed his old way of life, retirement still had its perks. Long walks on the beach being pretty much chief among them.

A hustle of a career in the city had motivated, if not necessitated, a change of scenery. So like all the other wealthy-enough old farts, he packed his world (including his wife Tammy) into the Uhaul and headed south for Fort Meyers. It was Naples, he told himself, just on the outskirts where the homes were more reasonable for an elderly couple.

So there Mark was, 73 years, khakis, and a couple of sandals beneath his belt. He strolled along the beach at dawn, same as each and every day of the last few months, or years, they ran together at this point.

Today was very quickly made different by what he saw about a mile from his condo. He could’ve been mistaken, and initially thought that he was. As he walked then actually managed a light jog, he got close enough to touch this seemingly foreign object perched right on the beach, his sandals under about an inch of water.

He reached out to touch the thing, just as his hand touched that shiny and sleek black angled surface, it vanished. Mark looked around, as if to check that someone else had seen it disappear. The thing was probably 10-foot across. He couldn’t understand how it’d wound up here with no vehicle tracks, or small crater, and just the same how it was gone.

So there Mark stood. Puzzled, intrigued, but also hungry. After about a full minute, he turned tail and walked back toward the condo. He fixed himself some breakfast and watched the sun climb up past the top of the porch.