The Santa Lucia sailed steadily across the Mediterranean Sea as the last light of day painted the horizon in shades of gold and crimson.
For a while, Captain Lubasi forgot about funerals, storms, and troubled thoughts.
The sea was beautiful.
Gentle waves rolled beneath the ship, reflecting the colors of the sunset. Seagulls followed the vessel for several kilometers before finally turning back toward the Tunisian coast.
Passengers filled the upper deck.
Some took photographs.
Others chatted over coffee.
A group of musicians played soft Italian melodies near the dining area.
For the first time since hearing of Marco's death, Lubasi felt a measure of peace.
As darkness slowly approached, he wandered through the ship, exploring its lounges and observation decks.
That was when he noticed the old man.
The man sat alone near a window, reading a worn Bible.
Unlike the other passengers, he seemed completely absorbed in what he was reading.
His silver hair was neatly combed. A pair of reading glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.
Every now and then he smiled at something on the page.
Lubasi found it curious.
Most people read novels or watched movies during long journeys.
This man read a Bible as though he were receiving instructions from headquarters.
The thought amused him.
The old man looked up.
Their eyes met.
To Lubasi's surprise, the stranger smiled warmly.
"Good evening."
"Good evening," Lubasi replied.
"Beautiful sea."
"It is."
The old man closed his Bible.
"Though beautiful things can change quickly."
Before Lubasi could respond, a sudden gust of wind rattled the windows.
Both men glanced outside.
The sea remained calm, but the sky had changed.
Dark clouds were spreading across the horizon.
The old man noticed Lubasi studying them.
"You see the clouds too."
"I do."
"They seem determined to join us."
Lubasi chuckled.
"You sound as though they're alive."
The old man laughed.
"After seventy years of life, I've discovered that storms often behave as if they have personalities."
"You're a philosopher?"
"An English teacher."
"Retired?"
"Like yourself, I suspect."
The remark caught Lubasi off guard.
"How did you know?"
"The posture. The haircut. The way you observe exits whenever you enter a room."
For the first time that evening, Lubasi smiled.
"Captain Lubasi."
The old man extended his hand.
"Fernando."
Before either man could continue, a loud crack of thunder echoed somewhere in the distance.
The conversation stopped.
Several passengers turned toward the windows.
The musicians stopped playing.
Another flash lit the horizon.
Closer this time.
Much closer.
Fernando calmly reopened his Bible.
Lubasi, however, felt something stirring deep inside him.
The same feeling that had warned him of danger during military operations.
Instinct.
And his instincts were telling him that the night ahead would not be ordinary.
Not at all.
Outside, the first wave struck the side of the ship with enough force to make the entire vessel shudder.