Island
“I haven't told him yet,” she says. I'm a little alarmed about it. “Why?” I ask. “I think it's best if I tell him in person so I will be there for him.” “I think he'll be okay because of you. So, everything's gonna be fine. How about you? Are you fine?” “What kind of question is that?” she asks bending forward to rest her chin on the handrail. “Of course I am. It was a long time ago.” “If you say so...” I hold her hand but she is not gripping back. I know she's still not okay. A few minutes later, we have arrived at the port. There aren't many people that walk around this part. Not all have time to have vacations. They have to worry about finding food and build homes. Vacation is the last thing in their minds. We climb down the yacht and she lets go of my hand. She makes a distan
- Writer
