The man lays in bed at night thankful to share a small space – any space to float.
The man loves boats. As a boy, on rainy walks to school he would shrink himself into an ant and ride the small paper boats along the roadside navigating this way and that.
Foot firm on the deck. He’d adjust his bag and walk to school watching each white rubber toe rise and fall. At school he would sit at his school desk quietly and wring his hands under his tabletop – pencils and pens neatly arranged like dead soldiers. He’d stare blankly at the water drops forming small rivers on the windowsill and occasionally tap on the glass.
