Five

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There's something eternally serene about sunsets, even after a tiring and overwhelming day. Here I stand, at the waterfront of Syracuse in Sicily, with the ocean in front of me, and the sun dipping towards the horizon, painting the sky and water in a kaleidoscopic splatter of pink and golden hues.

Syracuse is a city of resilience through the ages, there are Byzantine churches with WWII bullet holes, and modern buildings coexisting harmoniously next to ancient Greek amphitheater. The icon of the city is right in front of me: surrounded by limestone walls, a fresh water spring gushes out of the ground, creating a lush oasis of swaying papyrus and rippling water. Arethusa Springs is what the locals calls this spot, and it sits right along the waterfront, basking in the sunset with the ocean as its backdrop.

It's nice to be in such a stunning location, practically a dream; but as I breathe in the salty Mediterranean air, and survey the languid pedestrians all around me, I can't help but feel a strange urge within. That it'll be better if I'm sharing this perfect moment with someone, a very specific someone that I cannot remember. I struggle with the fleeting thoughts that continue to escape me, and frown in response.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice suddenly pipes up, startling me and making my camera holding hands shake.

I turn around, and find two inquisitive sets of eyes, from the person standing next to me and the flurry Pomeranian in his arms. The stranger pets the fluffball with his leisurely long fingers, and continues, "did you know that Arethusa was a nymph, and that she turned into a spring to hide from the river spirit? What's with the Italians and nymphs anyways, they are in almost every local legend..." The dog glares and gives a resounding bark, wholeheartedly agreeing to the statement.

A bit of an odd conversation starter from a stranger, but I... like it, so I smile at him, taking in his bellowing vintage floral shirt, and the forest green silk scarf that's tied in a pretty bow on his neck, "who knows, maybe the Italians got it figured out. Nymphs, river gods.. maybe there is indeed magic in their landscape, magic that makes people come back over and over."

He looks at me thoughtfully, the soft glow of the sunset shrouding his features, like gold shimmering over a statue of forever youth. It all feels so achingly familiar, and I blurt out a murmur before I can stop myself, "have I met you before somewhere? I could swear...hmm..."

He gives me a sassy little eye roll, but his lips betray him and curl up, "you could say something like that, yes. The funny thing is, I met the love of my life for the first time at this very spot decades ago. He was also a lone traveler, and terribly prone to dropping his precious camera, just like you." His gaze turns a little wistful, his hand on the Pomeranian pauses in reverie, "I made a promise to him that I'd always find him, no matter how lost he was. So here I am, feeling the pull to this enchanted place again, ready to be of service."

Something in his words resonates with me, something so genuine that it's almost too raw to bear, I respond, "that's very sweet of you, I really hope you do find each other."

"I think we'll do fine. He's a bit of an idiot," another eye roll, "but I guess so am I, what can I say-" Suddenly, a flash of fur leaps out of his arms, and he yelps, "Yeontan, no!"

By the time I realize what's happening, the pomeranian has already zoomed away. I swear I see the dog turn around to give us a victorious glare, before jumping up, up, tiny legs extended, body arching proudly midair, then dropping into the deep recess of the flowing spring below us.

The next moment turns slow motion in my mind, like some silly Hollywood action sitcom. The stranger next to me takes off after the dog, sprinting with his pretty scarf fluttering violently, his yells reverberating in the air, "Gukkie- Gukkie hurry we have to save him!"

I chase after them, leg muscles pumping into action, heart thrumming rapidly in my chest. When I finally reach the walled edge of the spring, as I jump into the unknown without hesitation, mind puzzled over whether the Gukkie he's calling is indeed me, a realization dawns upon me.

The wind whistles, the sunset rays bask all of us in eternal warmth, and suddenly, with a huge grin plastered over my face, I am right where I belong.

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