Whispers from the Deep

Part 2

At my words, their smiles widened. Sahra gestured grandly with her hand. "Why don't you come aboard, then? If you're interested, it's only fair to take it for a test ride..." My heart skipped a beat. I could hardly contain the excitement within me. It had been so long since I'd felt this kind of thrill. Retirement had still been challenging, primarily because I wasn't accustomed to being idle and doing nothing. This was the perfect distraction while Thomas was back at the hotel.

Without hesitating, I stepped onto the boat, and as soon as my feet landed, it gently swayed beneath me. The boat welcomed me, almost as if waiting for my touch. Every detail was perfect. This was the right decision—I was certain of it. Everything about this moment felt precisely as it should.

Marcel and Sahra guided me into the boat's cosy cabin. Marcel gently began to steer it away from the marina, the soft hum of the engine accompanying us as the boat glided through the water. Sahra pointed to a stack of logs and notes carefully arranged on the small table before us.

"We thought a potential buyer might want to look at our logbook," she said with a smile. "Marcel's kept all these records for years; they contain his notes on every trip and every log. They'll help you get a better idea of the boat."

I was impressed by the care and attention that had gone into the boat over the years. All of the information had been carefully written down, too. Marcel and Sahra clearly cherished it deeply, and I could feel the energy of that devotion in the vessel itself.

It was well-loved and maintained, and I hoped that Thomas and I could continue that same tradition of love and respect for this beautiful boat.

As we moved further out onto the lake, the view of Portalban became even more breathtaking. It faded into the distance, replaced by the tranquil expanse of water. The atmosphere here was calm and serene, a place where one could lose oneself for hours, with the water gently swaying the boat.

Marcel smiled at me and gestured towards the helm. "Why don't you take over for a moment?" he asked. "I'd like to see if you find it easy to manoeuvre. If you're serious about buying it, that is." Without hesitation, I approached the helm. As soon as my fingers touched it, a spark of certainty ignited within me. This was it. This was the boat I wanted—the one I had envisaged in my mind all these years. Getting Thomas on board might take some persuading, but I was confident he would grasp my vision.

"It's perfect," I said without hesitation. "I love it."

Sahra's voice pierced the calm before we could fully embrace the moment. "Oh, dear..." she muttered, her gaze drifting up to the sky.

I turned, and that was when I saw it. Dark clouds rolled in rapidly, and the gentle breeze intensified. A storm was approaching, unexpected and fast—which was surprising as none of us had anticipated it according to the weather report that day.

Marcel's expression changed instantly. His eyes swept the sky before he stepped forward, extending his hand towards the helm. "We'd better head back to the marina," he said. We all shared the same thought without uttering a single word—it was time to return quickly.

"Allow me," I retorted. There were moments when you genuinely got to know a boat—moments when your skills were put to the test. This was one of them.

I grabbed the helm, and the boat jolted against a rising wave. Something snapped loose in my mind. The hiss around me wasn't just wind—it was the high-pitched screech of metal collapsing. The rain hammering the canopy mimicked the sound of rubble raining down. For a second, I wasn't on a lake—I was back in that half-built structure in Zürich. The floor gave way, and then there was the silence, followed by the pain. The searing pressure. The snapping of bone.