Blue
He held the fabric close to his face, smelling the sea embedded in its fibres. His father's scent was there as well, fetching the man back from the distant seas of memory, so near the familiar voice seemed to echo around him. Above all else, it was the colour that drew him. The old jacket, once a fine deep blue, had faded over its life to lighter, greyer shades, the dark blue now only in places; the gold bullion worn away. He held it tightly, remembering lessons of honour and courage taught by the man who had worn the blue.