PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
“Are we ever going to get on the damned ferry?” John asked.
“Not if you keep swearing.”
“What? Swearing stops traffic?”
“Maybe,” Joe sighed, staring out the windshield at the tail lights ahead, grey sky above. Wishing…. nothing.
They crept closer and closer, finally pulling on and into their designated parking spot.
“I’m going up for a hot dog. Want anything?”
Joe shook his head. There was nothing on board he wanted. Not anymore. Luc was gone. There was no home left.
Following John onto the deck, he stood at the rail, fantasizing about leaping overboard.