It is evening. The setting sun gives off a soft, warm glow.
Holding hands, they take a slow walk down a stretch of deserted beach. They say nothing, but walk, listening to the sounds of the waves making their way onshore.
He looks at her, and starts thinking about how wonderful she is, and how lucky he is to be with her. He starts thinking about the future, their future. He imagines them living in their dream home. Oh! how wonderful it will all be!
He imagines their children running about in the house, knocking into things, getting hurt; and how he would come to their rescue, comforting them.
He imagines them growing up, graduating from high school, and doing well enough to go to University, something he had never done, and probably never will. And he imagines one of them shooting other kids.
Donn, fragments 
Perhaps his parents brought him up badly.
Perhaps that was because their parents had brought them up badly.
Perhaps that was because their grandparents had brought their parents up badly.
Perhaps that was because their great-grandparents had brought their grandparents up badly.
.
.
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