Page 8 of Exile

Back at the tiny house, I cooked my dinner in the little kitchenette. The scent of basil filled the space, making it feel a bit more like home. I did not miss home, though I missed every small town and city I visited in the past six months.

Once everything was ready, I plated the pasta and carried it outside to the small table on the porch.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, the sky showing off beautiful orange, pink, and purple colors. The water shimmered, reflecting the vibrant colors. I ate slowly, savoring each bite and the quiet serenity of the moment.

As the sun sank lower, I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. My gaze shifted to a house down by the water, its porch bathed in the golden glow of twilight. The figure of a man emerged from the door, tall and broad-shouldered.

It had to be him.

Unless I was simply being delusional.

No…ithadto be him.

Even from a distance, I just knew it was him.

His silhouette was strikingly familiar. I had seen it in movies, on TV, and on my phone screen.

It was Caspian.

He carried a mug in one hand and settled into the chair on the porch chair, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

I froze, watching him. My heart thudded in my chest as unfamiliar emotions surged within me.

Nervousness, curiosity, and something that felt an awful lot like hope.

He looked peaceful, sitting there as the day faded into night. The water stretched out before him, calm and unbroken, as if it held all the answers to the questions I wanted to ask him.

I considered walking down there for a moment, closing the distance between us. But something held me back. The timing didn’t feel right.

I needed more time before I showed up unannounced.

As the sky became darker, I finished my dinner. The sight of Caspian still lingered in my mind as I cleaned up and prepared for bed.

Tomorrow, I told myself. I’d go see him tomorrow.

I climbed into bed, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and stared at the ceiling. It felt like the calm before the storm, like the air was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Tomorrow, I will meet my grandfather.

For better or worse, at least I could introduce myself to him.

***

When I woke up the next morning, I was craving something sweet, and to my luck, there was a sweet little bakery right by the street at the camping ground entrance.

After taking a quick shower and putting on clothes, I got myself a cup of coffee and a baked good.

Before turning onto the road on which the general store was also on, I looked toward the house I now knew belonged to Caspian.

My plan was still to go over there and knock on his door to hopefully introduce myself as his granddaughter. However, deep down, I hoped I would see him walking to the bakery, casually passing him, and maybe sparking a random conversation.

Without telling him who I was or what I was there for.

But that wouldn’t be the case because the man rarely left his house.

Once arrived at the bakery, I walked inside and was immediately charmed by the interior. Wooden tables and chairs were scattered unevenly, a shelf full of secondhand books decorated one wall, and plants were all over the small place. Just a couple of what I assumed were locals sat there, chatting quietly or reading newspapers while sipping their drinks.

I approached the counter, where a cheerful barista with an apron smiled. “Good morning! What can I get for you?”

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