Deviate (verb): to turn aside from a course; to stray

Sandals printing over soft sand, an occasional wave lapping at his ankles, the elderly man took a deep breath and filled his lungs with ocean air. Over the horizon, the waning sun had finally dipped its head into the sea, painting the sky with a lovely sheen of yellow and gold.

Ah. Such was the peaceful life of retirement.

He trekked further down the beach, feeling the wind brush through his white locks and wrinkled skin, as if he was a young teacher stepping into a classroom for the first time again. That day, thirty-five years ago, was just like today.

The corners of his lips lifted in nostalgia, and—

Bam!

From nowhere, a figure slammed into the retired professor, barreling into his frail frame before knocking him flat on the ground.

At the same time, enraged shouts were erupting from somewhere behind them, but they sounded empty in his ringing ears. Police officers, most likely.

The old man groaned from the impact. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see a face—angry, afraid, and perhaps a bit regretful. The golden irises that reflected his own wrinkled face were so young, so promising, and… so familiar.

Footsteps thundered across the now-chaotic beach as figures clad in black and blue dashed in hot pursuit of the young man that had scrambled to his escape. The shouts became louder, then faded away just as suddenly.

Laying on the ground, the retired teacher did not get back up. The illusionary peace that he felt in his stroll vanished like a phantom wind as the eyes of his favorite student burned into his memory.