Bile

Darkness.

He hunkered over his laptop. In yoga terms, should it exist, his pose would be called “The Vulture”.

The staccato gunfire of fingers hitting keys as his fury blasted onto the screen, one long dry-heave of bilious rage, could be heard as far down the road as the sea.

The sea.

Calm, placid, peaceful, gentle, inevitable, unchanging, unmoved.

Unbroken.

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