What the Town Saw Tonight

The part I cannot shake is not the rescue. It is how quickly everyone looked away again once the danger had a shape. Fear can make a crowd useless, but it can also give it an excuse.

Lyle keeps calling the markings a coincidence because coincidences are safer than admitting the harbour has been sold from under us. I wanted to hear the word he is hiding. I wanted him to say it plainly, and I wanted Narelle to hear it too.

My hands look worse than they feel. That is probably why I keep opening and closing them. If I concentrate on the blood drying beneath my nails, I do not have to think about Ben’s face when he understood that I had not been certain I could get him out alive. He forgave me too easily. That shames me more than anger would.

There was a dark skiff beyond the point. I keep imagining its engine starting while the town slept. I wanted to chase it. I wanted proof simple enough to beat down a door with. Restraint feels cowardly now, even when it is the smarter choice.

Narelle placed her denial where everyone could see it. I do not know whether that was courage or another way of choosing which version of herself the town could bear. Ben spoke quietly beside the crane, and I listened until the thunder seemed less like pursuit.