Pitaju_me_svi -

By the third day, the rumor mill was at a boiling point. In the local konoba , where the scent of grilled sardines and cheap red wine hung thick in the air, Marko sat in the corner. He wanted to be invisible, but in a place where everyone knows your grandfather’s middle name, invisibility is a luxury. One by one, they approached.

The bus hissed as it came to a stop at the edge of the Adriatic. Marko stepped off, his boots crunching on the familiar white gravel. He looked the same, yet entirely different. The sharp jawline of his youth was now hidden behind a salt-and-pepper beard, and his eyes, once bright with the fire of ambition, were now as deep and unreadable as the sea at midnight. pitaju_me_svi

He walked to the center of the room. "The truth is, I didn't go away to become something. I went away because I didn't know how to stay. I spent twenty years looking for a place where no one knew my name, where no one would ask me anything. I worked on ships, I built houses in the mountains, I sat in squares in cities where I didn't speak the language." By the third day, the rumor mill was at a boiling point

Marko offered a tight, polite smile. "Just traveling, Stjepan. Just living." But "just living" was never enough for the people of Omiš. The Gathering One by one, they approached