She stood astern on the paint peeled wooden vessel, casually, peacefully, leaning over the railing intoxicated by the elixir of ocean water, salt and the crispness of fall. Curling hair blown back from her face revealed eyes unsure of exactly where she stood. Puzzled, the familiar seemed distant, difficult to reach, as if consumed by early morning ground fog; daily life presented more of a challenge than she thought possible. Undecided if it was the October wind or the iced blue glare of his eyes, the approach of the ferryman sent a shiver up her spine.
“I’ve come to collect – you were told the price of the fare, yes?”
The woman, fear simmering in a pot long forgotten, softly stuttered her reply –
“yes, it was explained to me quite some time ago”.