James felt old. In a way that the books on his shelf were old, though nothing in particular was wrong with them, they seemed to be glued in place to the spot the last person left them in. Not without the slight wear and tear, but readable and usable, though now unread and unused. He sunk deeper into his armchair, causing a shallow squeak to break the silence of the study. Silence was what he came here for, but today was the first time in a while where it bothered him. The stillness of this room was the one refuge he could look forward to in his afternoons. Every square inch of his space was filled with a wide assortment of orders of merit, framed distinctions, memorabilia of former achievements and other paperweights. Everything in its right place, never touched. James glanced at his table, his gaze zigzagging from one item to the next until it landed on the one monument towering above the rest. A large intricately painted globe, now well out of date. Instinctively, he pulled himself from his place and began wondering towards the object. It was smooth and sturdy, weighted down with a large stand. A memory of his father shouting to not play with it when his brother tried to see how fast it could spin. His smirk disappeared as quickly as it came, he looked up. A small framed postcard decorated the wall with half a dozen barely recognizable figures posing next to a dog sled. The stories he heard of his brother’s exploits were printed in the tabloids from time to time, but the image from that postcard was always at the end. It was the only thing to come back from that trip.
James shivered, five minutes must have passed since he got up from his armchair. His fingers aimlessly touching the globe. As if instinctively, he put it into motion, feeling the texture of the brushstrokes. Nobody was there to tell him not to touch it this time, but nevertheless the act filled him with an internal uneasiness. The air became heavy with the smell of dust, his finger was limp. It slowed to a stop under the soft pressure of his touch.
The salty ocean breeze rustled his blazer on the noisy dock. The longshoremen screamed as the cranes lifted cargo onboard. He didn’t exactly remember what compelled him to place himself on the ocean liner. This was not the first time he saw the sea, but it was the first time it made him shiver. Seeing ships slowly sink into the horizon filled him with dread, he took in this feeling and swallowed it slowly like a cup of coffee. With a shivering hand, James began taking out the folded photo tucked in his vest, but stopped halfway and pushed it back in. He began to make his way to the entrance. There was a sense of monstrous intimidation in the size of the ship as he got closer to it, feeling it’s presence close in as if to gulp him down when given the chance. With one leg aboard, he hesitated to lift himself up into it when he felt it rock back and forth. Putting his weight on it, James felt as it picked him up, and no longer felt old.