~It was a quiet morning. The dead current turned the water into a glass mirror, only reflecting the opaque fog. The minute bobbing of the edge of the boat was barely existent, forming feeble ripples in the otherwise undisturbed bay. The sun wasn't visible in the dim atmosphere, only illuminated grey shown around. A gentle chill embraced his flushed face as he sat with an old wooden oar across his lap. If this was what heaven looked like, he would believe it.
Maine was his second home. He recalled the lazy summer days on Mount Desert Island with Erin and his parents. The languid flow of the glacial ocean in contrast to the scorching sand. The heart-pounding treks through Acadia National Park. The rewarding and never-ending nights of rich coffee ice cream. It was the closest he believed he would ever get to an actual place of serenity.
PFFFFFSHHHH
"AHHHH!" His innocent thought was shattered by the eruption of the (used to be) still water beside his canoe.
"What the…?"
His head shot over to catch a glimpse of a shiny black dorsal fin.
A porpoise.
He relaxed his grip on the bench, but remained shaken and alert.
He remembered the time his family went out on the bay together and saw extraordinary porpoise and seal sightings. They gawked with amazement at the spray from the porpoises; the mist shown with rainbows from the gleaming sun. His brother and he were so enthused, they nearly tipped the boat over numerous times.
He held his breath in apprehension as he awaited the next surface of the animal.
He jumped in shock as two synchronized spouts exploded on both sides of the boat.
You brought a friend, I see. He thought bitterly, but amusedly.
"I'll call you... Alaric." He looked over at the settling bubbles on his left.
"WAH" a sudden spray from the other porpoise startled him.
"Man, you're a playful bugger" he laughed, unsteadily.
He watched as the murky figure disappeared from sight into the sapphire depths.
A weak thought in the back of his mind disturbed his thought… A name.
"Ib? I guess I'll call you Ib… I mean, not that you care… or know, for that matter."
Ib. What an odd name. He couldn't recall ever hearing a name like that before. Did it stand for something? Isabella, perhaps? If he met a girl named Ib; what would she look like? Maybe silvery blonde hair- no. A red head? That didn't seem fitting, either. Yes, a brunette. That sounded fitting. Would she have brown eyes, the color of dark roast coffee? Nah, that wasn't exotic enough. She could have clear gem-colored eyes. Maybe a nice topaz or emerald. Somehow he imagined crimson colored irises. He'd never seen a person with red eyes. Was it scary? It didn't seem to be frightening in his mental picture of an imaginary "Ib". In fact, he thought ruby eyes would be stunning. An "Ib" would be stunning, as well. He finished the rest of the features off: a pronounced, but soft chin, a graceful nose that scrunched up when her cheeks glowed rose and her brilliant smile shone. She seemed so familiar. She had to be real somehow. He was sure.
A massive disruption, the equivalent of a billion porpoises surfacing at once, broke the peaceful morning. All his senses were debilitated as he remembered everything, while being torn from reality.