"The figure rose from the sun-fractured, sapphire blue waters of the lagoon, like the reflection of an angel, wings spread, sword in hand, descending from the heavens.
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"The figure rose from the sun-fractured, sapphire blue waters of the lagoon, like the reflection of an angel, wings spread, sword in hand, descending from the heavens.
James surveyed the salvage operation, now nearly complete. The sum of his twenty-six years had been packed in a large suitcase, a garment bag, and four cardboard boxes, which were stacked neatly on the floor, ready to be shipped to his new place in Wisconsin. His flight to Madison from Manchester left at 6:05pm. If anything, he was ahead of schedule. He realized, much to his surprise, that he felt good; not quite happy, but good. He would travel the road not taken, after all.