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  • He pushed through the crowd of shoppers by the Trumpet Bridge. Wheels of strollers had clipped his ankles, shoeboxes had hit their cardboard corners against his shins. Thankfully the stream of people thinned as the space opened out to the harbour. The late sun sparkled across the wake of small watercraft zipping across the water. It hurt his eyes. He turned his back on it.

    He only wanted to see one bright face. She was a sunshine girl, and true, it hurt his eyes. He'd turned his back. She'd left. Trapped in his indecision he had wandered the cobbled waterside all afternoon, watching the boat people sweep and clean, repair and paint, pot their plants and lean sun red skin against portholes holding mugs of tea.

    He was out of time. He climbed to the highest point he knew to watch. Wind turned chill. The skateboarders glided out of sight. Families trundled the children home, whining with hunger. He stayed till the sun vanished into that eerie blue twilight. He stayed till the lamps came on.
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