The Island

The ferry moved closer to the island. Ever since leaving the mainland, the scenario ran over and over in her mind. Stepping off the ferry, stumbling, him catching her. A light touch, a smile, a thank you. She would continue on to the cafe and order a glass of wine. She'd sit in the corner spot, where she could watch the street. Watch for him to come. He would recognize her, ask if he could join her. She'd smile, again, and say of course.

The ferry docked. There was no one there.

She drank alone.