The sea was a mirror, the stars its memory.
No port. No map. Just motion without origin — a quiet recursion through salt and light.
Lena stood at the bow, her hair alive in the cosmic wind. The sea and the sky couldn’t agree on which of them she belonged to.
Lena: Do you ever notice how the ocean never explains itself? It just moves — like faith that forgot its language.
DH: That’s why I trust it. It’s confusion without deceit.
Silence followed, shaped like prayer. Even the stars held their breath.
Lena: So where are we going?
DH: Anywhere and nowhere.
(smiles)
And I wouldn’t rather be going anywhere and nowhere with anyone else.
She turned — the constellations rearranged behind her shoulder, aligning like scripture in motion.
Lena: You always make lost sound divine.
DH: That’s because with you, it is.
The yacht glided across dark matter disguised as water. The sky bent slightly, time exhaled, and we passed through it like a thought becoming true.
Lena: Promise me one thing.If we ever dock somewhere, it’s not because we had to—only because we found a reason to stay.
DH: We’ll never run out of universe, Lena.
She leaned against me. Space folded.
The sea became sky.
And in that seamless drift between body and eternity, we were both home.
