Harbor Square
The water is the same dull grey-brown as the rest of the city. Despite covering up the ugliness, the dark only makes it more apparent.
Each small swell and release of polluted water carries more rubbish in.
I reach down into the water, careful not to lose my footing on the slick green moss on the last stair, where water meets shore.
A styrofoam coffeecup brushes up against my hand, the next wave pushes it out of my grip.
The sky is nearly as dark as the water below. Clouds obscure the starlight. even the electric light from the lamps lining the opposite side of the dock are washed out, wrapped nearly completely in the thick fog. Only a few furls of light escape, not even enough for my frame to cast a shadow on the rippling water.
I stand up, and walk up the stairs, the grit collected from the sea obvious as it scratches against my bare feet.
I pause and look behind me, over the abandoned nighttime waters.
No light dots the shore opposite from me, no lights are on in the docked boats. I am nearly fooled into believing that this is no illusion, that the water really does meet the horizon at the point of infinity.
I allow my body to lean beside the thick black bar, the only barrier between the cement and the stairs that lead into the sea.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a single figure, only a shadow against the starless night sky.
He stands fearless on the cement edge of the low dock wall, six feet above the waters as he spreads his arms into the air and holds them still as they trail shadow like grotesque wings.
When he falls backwards into the black emptiness below, there is no scream, no surprise at the impact of body meeting water.
I climbed over the barrier and abandon the pavillion, pretending I never heard that splash.
