Crime

The Sliding Doors of a Storm

The wind was as strong as Indonesia’s equatorial sun, the day Mother Nature blew in that tempestuous storm. The darkness threatened overhead, then broke around me.  I had no obligation to sail, but in those bitter-sweet final days, time was of the essence.  I feared that wild, untamed ocean like a criminal fears a judge.  It was a “Sliding Doors” moment: instinct said stay, pride said go.  The ocean taunted me, rising angrily against anything in its path.  Tears blinded me as I stepped onto the inadequate boat.  The sea drew me into its violent clutches, and swept me away.

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