You find yourself on the floating jetty. Walking beside the boats being gently rocked by the water, like a mother and child.

You don’t expect much at this time, these boats are normally empty, it is just another place to bide your time until you find something of interest.

Today is different though. You catch the sound of a man whistling, and hear him trying to raise his kin from it’s slumber. Coming closer you see that he is not just talking to the craft beneath his feet, but a large ginger tabby resting on the deck, both defiantly him.

The way he walks around and gets on with his tasks show that he is at ease with being alone. His eyes reveal a contentment with this way of life, this routine. As if it has always been this way, but you feel he is imbued with a deeper regret.

He strokes the cat’s head, as the engine purrs into life, and tells it of all the great adventures for the day. Something in this reminds him of a past adventure, when it was just him and the boat, without the cat. Something more melancholic. The cat’s eyes speak of its knowledge of all types of sadness, but this is only noticed by the boat, which murmurs its agreement with both the man and the cat as it drives them away.