As the train pulled out of the station Sinclair felt his breathing steady, his racing heart slow and a tension release. This was it, his big adventure and the world lay waiting for him. He had scrimped and saved for the whole year, crappy jobs and no nights out with mates. Every penny he could put aside was locked in his bank account — out of sight and out of mind.
One goal in mind, to escape the city, the degree, his lovely family. And they were lovely, genuinely so but he needed to soar, to reach his own heights. He wasn’t going to know who he was or what he stood for if he didn’t take that plunge. There was comfort and security at home, a safety net that kept him second guessing his intuition, his own ability to stand on his own.
Two weeks ago he walked into the travel agent and bought a ticket to travel the world, then hugged his tearful mother and jumped on the plane. The hours left alone on the flight were the worst, he began to question his decisions, replaying his mum’s face in his mind, as he walked through security, the black streaks running down her cheeks.
Was he a bad son?
Collecting his bags from the filthy conveyor belt he wondered, until he wandered out into the concourse and it was like a whole new world. The smell of cinnamon, and cardamom, nutmeg and garlic all fusing together around him, a sensory overload that made his eyes water and his stomach grumble.
Then he knew. He really knew, that he was right where he needed to be.
The universe was calling.
Good one
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