Nowhere Man 19
I can go home again.
On the day before Christmas Eve, I arrived in Oban. Hearing the screech of the gulls, smelling the lobster pots, and tasting the salt air cleaning my throat, I knew I was almost home.
Boarding the car ferry, the noises I thought forgotten came hurtling back: the yells of the men calling out, the piston-powered doors, the dragging chains, and the pungent smell of exhaust fumes…