It was gray and chilly, but not actively raining, so Duke was out on the deck with his yoga mat, working slowly through a nice basic flow.

He'd started his morning with a therapy session, in which he'd been given homework: to do whatever he needed to do to reconnect his body and mind. And since he was of the opinion swimming in the North Atlantic in December was something only fools did for longer than a few seconds at a time, he defaulted to yoga to try and do it.

His therapist had assured him he wasn't crazy, at least. (Well, actually, he'd given Duke a lecture on the history of the term as a pejorative and encouraged him to re-frame his ideas about mental health entirely.) So he had that going for him.

(Though at least being crazy might have felt like a nice excuse.)

[open to anyone on the boat or anyone wandering by!]