He was like a clam, the sort found in abundance on the coastline of the island. The dentist had first come to the snack bar after he had returned to his home island. The dentist was lucky to have gotten across the bay that afternoon. It was the peak of the typhoon season, and the weather was bad. The fisherman, an old school friend, had been very reluctant to go, but the dentist insisted.
Desperate men get their way, sometimes.
As they crossed the water, their conversation was mostly taken up with local matters, such as the bridge, one that had been started and never completed because of lack of funds. The conversation was limited. Even few jokes were exchanged during the forty minute crossing. If the men had been close friends, they might have broached the topic of the dentist's marriage, but the only personal thing discussed was the fisherman's crown. That was it.