The Last Ferry Home

The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water.​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌ He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said. The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said. The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said.​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌ The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said. The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said. The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said.​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌ The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said. The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said. The ferry was late again, and Nikos didn't mind at all. He had learned to read the harbour the way other people read a newspaper: the fishing boats first, then the tourists, then the one man who always stood at the far end of the pier with his back to the water. He had been coming here for eleven days. Nikos had counted, and hated himself a little for counting. "You are waiting for the six o'clock," he said finally, because eleven days is long enough. The man turned. He had the kind of face that looked better when it was surprised. "I am waiting for a reason not to take it," he said.​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌