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[center][h2][i]Three weeks ago...[/i][/h2][/center]
[i]Some nights she couldn’t sleep. Where the calm western lagoon of Isla Zafrio usually rocked her blissfully away, sometimes it felt like the water and the boat itself were restless for her attention. Giving up on trying to ignore them, she sat in the Captain’s chair, [i]her chair[/i], with tired eyes, occasionally glancing over dimmed gauges that didn’t hold a lot of meaning for a vessel at anchor under furled sails. She yawned. In her adolescent years, as a young sailor, tales and superstitions hadn’t affected her much, particularly when modernity was at most only a few miles past the horizon. Now she again mused that the boat was nudging her awake, out of its own sentience, and she did her part rising from her cabin for a night watch.   

With her bow pointed north, parallel with the shore, she had nothing but miles of empty water to the Mexican coast on her port and the nightlights of Zafrio Marina on starboard. Her eyes drifted up the mast swaying from a gentle push of Gulf breeze and she sat in silence for a while and let her thoughts wander with a sigh. She wasn’t sure how long she was there before the boat shifted beneath her in what could only be the wake of another. The near complete lack of sound told her exactly which one. The silhouette moved across the dock lights and set away on a course south out of the lagoon. Her groggy expression narrowed to a tiny smirk and she patted the wheel in thanks as the shadow drifted away into the dark.[/i]
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