Monday, April 24, 2017

still at port

Passengers gathered around the edge of the ship to watch it depart. Prepared for eight days in the chilly, windy, grey. He found himself a high spot where he could overlook nearly the entire ship.

The weather didn't have him looking forward to this leg of the journey. A few other people gathered on his perch. The Captain's bridge was just below them. All the railings were white and cold to hold onto.

He kept thinking about the woman with the broken arm and black eye.

Around her neck she had a scarf made of green and yellow and white. It seemed to depict plant matter of some kind, like palms or olive branches. The thin layers of the scarf wrapped around her. It gave her a disheveled but cozy appearance. Her id badge barely peaked out from under all that fabric.

The dozen or so people on the perch watched in meditative silence as the gates to the ship were lifted and the engines started to hum. Slowly, the ship parted from the dock.

She had a cast on her right arm and the right side of her face was scratched and bruised. He tried not to stare.

As the boat picked up speed, it started to get cold. People slowly left the perch to find warmth inside.

He tried to imagine what happened to her, or what she might be called.

He suddenly felt homesick.

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