The silent sea

The salt-crusted ropes creaked as Ali pulled them taut. The sun, a fiery orb, hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck of his small dhow. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair and the loose ends of his thobe. He squinted against the glare, a practiced motion, and scanned the horizon. The sea, a vast expanse of shimmering blue, stretched out before him, a silent, endless promise.   "Another good catch today, the gods be praised," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull.   "Aye, Ali," replied Omar, his voice rough with years of salty air and stormy weathers, "The sea has been kind to us today."   They had been fishing partners for as long as Ali could remember, their bond forged in days under the burning sun.. They shared stories, laughter, and the occasional silent prayer, all in the company of their fickle mistress, the endless open sea.   As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Ali and Omar hauled in their nets, heavy with the day's catch. The weight of the fish pulled at their arms, a sure sign the gods were being gracious today.   "A feast tonight, then," Omar said, a wide grin spreading across his face.   "Indeed," Ali replied, mirroring his brothers grin. "A feast, and a well-deserved rest."   As they sailed back to the harbor, the stars twinkled above, silently watching on.