The Commute – 3 Line Tales

tltweek23

There was always such exquisiteness in leaving; an aching tug that rose from the depths and made her smile against her will. She hesitated on the dock, boarding pass in hand, discerning the clinking buoys beneath the pier from the steady hum of the ferry’s engine. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the water tugging against the pier from below. The gentleness of wave against wood belied the force with which it would spit the dock from its moorings and send it ass over tea kettle into the Pacific. If it wanted to. For a moment, she stood in awe at the raw power she rarely questioned. The ocean that could silence a pier, a vessel, a life – lapped with a calm indifference at her feet. It was the indifference, she decided, that kept her coming back. Not this time. This time, she’d brought her things -and left him sleeping in a cloud of his own stupor.

Without a word, she settled her bag around her shoulders and headed to the ramp to board. Soon, the clinking of the buoys would fade amidst the chatter of morning commuters, disappearing completely as she waited in line to purchase her return.

© Nadia Brown

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Photo by Charlie Hang

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