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The morning air tasted of salt, warm espresso,

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and the quiet promise of a new day.

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Matteo unlatched his wooden door and stepped out

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onto the cobblestone path,

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pulling his knitted sweater tight against the crisp

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dawn breeze.

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Below him, nestled into the curve of the

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rugged cliffside,

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the small harbor slept under a blanket of

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pastel light.

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Rows of coastal houses, painted in sun -faded

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terracotta, ochre, and seafoam green,

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tumbled down the slope like spilled beads.

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From their stone chimneys,

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thin ribbons of smoke began to curl into

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the sky as the village stirred.

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Matteo walked down the winding steps toward the

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water,

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his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone.

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At the edge of the shore, the sea

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was an expanse of impossibly calm turquoise,

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mirroring the pale gold of the morning sunlight

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spilling over the horizon.

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Bobbing gently on the glass -like surface were

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the fishing boats,

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a vibrant cluster of crimson, cobalt, and canary

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yellow.

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Matteo untied the ropes of his own boat,

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the Lucia asterisk,

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listening to the soft asterisk thump -thump of

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the hull brushing against the wooden dock.

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Overhead, a flock of gulls wheeled in the

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sky,

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their sharp cries echoing off the cliffs before

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they swooped down to skim the quiet water.

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Stepping aboard, Matteo picked up his oars and

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pushed off.

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As he glided out of the harbor and

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toward the open sea,

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the golden sun finally crested the rooftops,

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washing the entire Mediterranean coast in a warm,

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brilliant glow.