The stone lion at the entrance of the bay was waiting for her as every day, and she turned the boat’s helm towards it. For three days, the anger of the sea had not let her get close to it; for three days, she patiently waited for the waves to release their fury. She watched them rage against the rocks, even though they knew they would shatter on their sharp edges. These steep shores were their concern^ the breaking of the land was their only creation^ their very own work of art…
She turned and looked back at her house growing distant. It rested in its enclosed bay, drowned in greenery, isolated… just like herself. The figure of the man on the shore was familiar to her, which made her smile. Even from where he was, he could clearly feel her anxiety^ it would last until the moment he helped her tie her boat again, to then lead her to the quiet kitchen, where Eugenia, his wife, would make her the usual hot chocolate, served in her favorite mug, along with a tender caress on her hair, just like when she was a child.
Eugenia carefully descended the stairs and stepped onto the sand^ it was cool, and that somewhat eased the pain in her feet. To hell with it, I guess I’m getting old! she thought and approached her husband. He still had his eyes fixed on the small white boat, which was speeding away. “What are you doing here?” she asked him, although she knew the answer.
“She left… She’s going to the lion again…” he replied without taking his eyes off the sea.