Seen on the ferry to Bainbridge Island at about 3:30 p.m., February 27th, 2014
Rita rides the ferry daily, its floating concrete sturdier than land, unsinkable. She eats popcorn. The cloud-choked mountains and black pine shadows are better from a distance, murky symmetry shadowed on a rippling glass floor. She cannot see the people on shore, and the people on board are safe like her, silent, island-backbone-mesmerized, wind-strewn, soft-motor-lulled.
More of a vignette than a story, but that's okay. So exhausted! But sleep is for the weak. Must take in as much of Seattle as I can while I'm here.