“That’s one strange boat,” Annika picked up a stone, rubbing it furiously as she looked wistfully towards the sea.  An old balinese schooner had recently arrived at the Raffles Marina with a Chinese flag hoisted high above it.  No one had seen the owner except the authorities.  Rumours were that he was an old man, possibly in his 60′s or even 70′s, a Eurasian, for no one could peg his ethnicity, his features having been terribly weathered by the wind and the high seas.

“Why doesn’t he come out like everyone else? I mean, isn’t that the point of docking?  If he’s just going to stay inside, he might as well be out there, going somewhere.”

I didn’t really know what to say to Annika.  I knew where her agitation came from; that it was directed at this stranger was enough for me to know that quiet agreement was all that was needed at this point.

She stopped rubbing the stone and hurled it into the open seas, well, the opening at the docks anyway.  It landed a few feet from where we were standing.  Since there was no thud, no visible damage, it was not satisfying in any manner to my friend who was torn from inside out.

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