Keith had to catch the ferry. He hadn’t seen his girlfriend for three days. The ferry crossed from one island to another thrice daily. This time there was a huge line.
No more tickets. All booked out. Come back in the morning. Should have booked earlier. Go away.
The line disintegrated. People grumbled.
Keith pulled a beanie hard down over his ears. He hunched his back and looked forlorn. He went to the ticket office.
“Chemotherapy,” he lied, pointing to his head. They gave him a ticket.
The boat sank.