His life was much like this boat on water, no oars, no sails, nowhere to go. Just a constant rocking, a constant need to stay afloat. He had to move. Much like this boat, he needed a purpose beyond the indecision of back and forth, go or stay. To stay is to give in to the crippling fear that put him here in the first place, far from the water but close enough to see the waves. Not touch them or feel the mist the wind carries ashore. Just close enough to count the boats. There were four now. It’s hard to believe fifteen docked earlier, so eleven times, he almost left. Eleven times he gave into this fear, that he would slide into another transparent tube, be separated from the freedom he loved, in a current he couldn’t control or follow. So here he was, knowing to leave is to find it again and swim free, away from human feces and feet. Now, it’s just one boat left. He pushed his neck forward, one flipper after the other, this turtle was finally going home.
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