The night had started with an unfulfilling argument and ended in a night drive to an old refuge- the marina. The sandy gravel became warped wooden planking and tethered boats crowded together like an elderly congregation, eager for the next visitor. I almost felt guilty for ignoring them.
It was cold, colder than I remembered but then it always was. Intermittent visits begat intermittent memories.
Two other people were there- an old fisherman asleep while his fishing pole bobbed in time with the water, and a thin shadow in a hoodie that stared out into the darkness.
I hadn’t realized I wanted company until I stood next to her. She looked at me and cocked her head ever so slightly, hair wisping into the wind.
The girl offered me a cigarette by extending the box she’d been holding. She was too young to smoke. I took one anyway. It’d been four months since I’d quit. We shared a match pulled from a pocket and let the red tips of our cigarettes do the talking, signaling to each other like two ships at sea.