With the tourist season long over it was tranquil in the ferry. Under the golden lights he sat in their spot, with the metal scroll base accented tabletop etched to resemble a mariner’s map. He gazed over the still waters taking in the colors that changed from a clear blue to pink hue and the undulating hills overlooking the shore. The blue of the sky brought a reminder of the trip to Madrid, when she turned to him and exclaimed “Mi blusa es celeste”. He missed her terribly at moments like this and wished he had never pushed her over.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word count 100.