Gemotions

Marco felt the familiar rhythm of the waves, the salt spray on his face. He felt at peace as he stood in the bow of his sailboat, scanning the horizon. The vast ocean, the challenge of navigating the winds, was his calling. He was at home, in the truest sense of the word.

He’d found the letter in a box of his aunt’s possessions. Her elegant script, the date – 1989. It was a draft of a letter of resignation from a prestigious art gallery. He read the words, and his stomach churned slightly.

Her words spoke of dreams deferred, a life of compromise. He felt a moment of discomfort. But the feeling passed quickly. He felt the wind in his face, and breathed deeply. He was exactly where he needed to be. He was the captain of his own ship. He smiled, and set sail.