“Alright, supplies are loaded,” a dock worker said as he tapped my boat, “We’ve also fuelled ‘er up so… I expect you’ll be payin’ us, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, Kenneth, you’ll get your damned money once I get back to port,” I grumbled, “For now, just be glad I’m still transporting your goods.”

“Alright then,” Kenneth laughed, “Just promise to have safe trip then,” He then gave me a half-hearted salute before climbing into his forklift.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Turning the key to my boat, I listened as the engine groaned to life. However, it, like usual, almost immediately died with a distinct fizzling sound. This boat wasn’t long for this world quite clearly, but there was no other boat that could make it to a from the port I lived in. Bigger ships with more powerful engines would hit the icebergs while smaller faster ships would run out of fuel.

Turning the key again, the engine burst to life without a groan

“Good girl,” I said to the air and, after finishing my coffee, I gently pressed down on the accelerator setting sail for the distant storm snow on the horizon. This was an every week trip for me just as it had been for my father. All for some fish.