I felt aware of my singularity. Back on the boat, though, loneliness gave way to a close circumscription. There's an intimacy to being anonymous in a small, unstable space. When the woman touched his arm, the man's contained look of pure pleasure spilled over into a small, crooked smile. I wanted to clarify about my day trip, about travel in general.
Ferry boats sink all the time.
Like trains and airplanes, they are repositories of imminent disaster. This potential, I feel, binds passengers together. Sadly, it is at the point of arrival that our tacit camaraderie evaporates, as we waft out into the world. The man stood. I took a last, long drink of my beer and bowed my head over my notebook.