Love At Sea
The sea has returned to its impossible blue, as if yesterday’s storm had been only a violent dream that passed, leaving behind nothing but the echo of its fury in my muscles and soul.
I am at the center of the presidential suite’s king-size bed, surrounded by the three bodies that became my magnetic north for seven days. Zion sleeps face down beside me, his face buried in the pillow, his breathing heavy but peaceful. Luka lies on his back, one arm over his eyes, as if trying to postpone waking up. Elias remains behind me, his broad chest pressed against my back, one of his enormous hands splayed over my stomach as if even in sleep he needs to keep me anchored.
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