Risks, rewarding and unrewarding, considered.
What I see is my boat, auto helm still engaged, sailing away from me, her twin hulls cutting parallel grooves in the water that close up even as they’re made to glassy slicks that are just as quickly brushed away by the wind.
The impulse to swim after her comes and goes, as does the impulse to cry for help. There’s no hope of catching her, and no one to hear my shout. Why I am here doesn’t matter now because it cannot be undone. I am in the water, I am alone, and no one knows where I am.
