The wind suddenly changed direction and a spot of engine oil began to slowly spread across the deck. The unpleasant smell of engine oil flooded Disa’s nostrils, and she raised the collar of her wool sweater, covering her face. The pleasant scent of the detergent for wool and delicate clothes instantly overcame the toxic fumes of the engine. Friki, the boat owner, and Rousa, his daughter, did not seem to be as bothered by the polluted air they were breathing. Both stood leaning on the railing, their gaze fixed on the nets. They were very curious to finally see what kind of fish they would catch. In contrast, Disa preferred to sit near the helm. With her back, she tried to find a small wall to lean on. She made great efforts to convince herself that the spot she had chosen had nothing to do with her fear of the sea and her constant terror of drowning. She believed this would prove Friki wrong, as he was the first to notice the fear in her eyes.
Of course, he did not believe her. Every now and then, he cast furtive glances in her direction, worried. On the other hand, Rousa seemed fearless. She was still too young to let fears drown her longing for adventure. That was why they rarely visited her. At her age, Disa was like his daughter. But many years had passed since then, and that old, childish carefreeness had been replaced by a heap of anxieties. So, instead of living in the moment, instead of feeling the salt on her lips and the wind in her hair, her mind constantly wandered to the icy depths of the sea. Disa tried for a moment to push her thoughts away from that dark, wet grave. After all they had been through, fate had to show them mercy.