“He pressed the pads of the thumb and forefinger of his right hand gently together. He closed his eyes. He drew in a deep breath. He pictured a shoreline in early, gentle English light. Emerald waves tumbled on to sand at the edge of the sea, smoothing out with rhythmic, dissipating force. The sand was exposed, yellow and compacted, hissing in odd fissures and pockets on the retreat of the water, leaving behind translucent bits of shell and trailing wisps of kelp. He exhaled, at a blessed and de...liberate remove, suddenly, from the chaos around him. It had worked. He was alert to the tug of his sleeve or the mention of his name over the public address system. But he was away from it, in the mental refuge of a place that meant calm and release. He even sensed he could smell the salt scent of a coastal morning. He had learned this coping exercise two years earlier. He had been obliged to give a series of presentations. James had always suffered a secret terror of public speaking. As the moment approached, he would succumb to an attack of nerves.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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