Alan Edward Fish

You Charge Different People Different Things Alan Edward Fish

The ferry glided across the flat water of the harbor. Outside the glare of the lights of the big ship, the only stars were the broken strands close above the hilltops of the island the ferry ran beside, and the hilltops were only deeper shadows in the dark. Standing at the stern rail watching the ferry approach the docking he was barefoot on the wooden deck and cold, there was a wind coming down from the hills onto water that was as still as oil and glimmered black with starlight.