A light snow started to fall right as the ferry was ready to depart. The day was still breaking, early morning sunbeams painting the sky in blues, purples and reds like a Jackson Pollock canvas. The horn blew twice, its echoes reverberating in the placid depths of the Sound. The seagulls perched on the wooden posts close to the harbour didn’t even stir at the sound, they must have gotten used to these by now.

As the harbour is receding, I turn around for a final glance. You are still at the rope line, staring in my direction. If I squint, I can see the intensity in your midnight blue eyes, pinning me to the spot, tethering me to you. I can still feel you; your scent on my skin, your hands on my body. As I breathe in lungfuls of salty ocean air, I can taste you on my lips. I can feel the sea, you and me.

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