STELLA
I couldn't believe I hadn't left.
The harbor was alive with movement, a chaotic symphony of sounds and sights that pressed down on me like an unrelenting weight. The cries of gulls mixed with the distant honk of horns from incoming vessels, the air heavy with the briny scent of saltwater and the faint tinge of oil. My suitcase trailed behind me, its wheels rattling unevenly over the cobblestones as I navigated through the bustling crowd.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, the fabric soft but failing to shield me from the cold breeze sweeping off the water. The holiday cruise had ended hours ago, and now, faced with reality, I felt unmoored, adrift in a sea of strangers and noise. My steps faltered as I passed a street vendor selling freshly baked pretzels, the buttery aroma waft
