The shortest sailing story I've written thusfar:

He stared at the rain that drizzled against the salon window, sipped his coffee and let his eyes drift across the waves. The grey sky blended into the quicksilver sea, broken only by the dark wave patterns and occasional whitecaps. He relived the terrible moments when Shelia had fallen overboard, the repeated desperate rescue attempts in the midst of high winds and terrible pounding seas, the horrible sense of failure as she was whisked far from the boat. He tried to find the silver lining to the stormy clouds above him. “At least,” he thought at last, “the nagging has stopped.”