It was a June Saturday after dinner I walked along the docks
and noticed a man I knew putting crates of beer on his boat that
had an outboard motor. He lived on the other side of the bay and
invited me to come along and I accepted. In the middle of the bay,
The man slowed the motor his face was white as Arctic icicles, eyes
like burning lumps of lava, I felt cold and was in immense danger.
The man said: “if the boat capsized I could swim ashore, could you?”
His boat had oars I picked up one and placed it across my knees.
The man looked as he was making a move, I said: “I would not do this
if I were you.” At the pier I helped him taking the beer ashore, I didn’t
accept his invitation to come up to his house for a drink.
While waiting for the regular ferry, I had coffee at the local cafe and
noticed my hands were still shaking after my narrow escape from
a man who had murder in his heart.