A woman offers her teeth to a young man on the ferry. He says he has a splinter in his thumb. She'll get it out, she says. The young man is jumpy. Composure-wise, he is too young and careless-looking to be panicked about a splinter. Age-wise, he is too old to be panicked, not a child. So, his option is jumpy although the ferry is rather still. The woman grabs his thumb. She is shorter than him. Her eyes are downcast, like a palm reader’s. She keeps her teeth where they are. It’s a blood blister, she says. Not a splinter. The way she says it reminds me of the way a tire might spring a leak. She returns the thumb. Someone else offers their earring to prick the blister. A woman dressed like a soccer coach hollers to stop them. That’s not sanitary! He’s an adult, someone shouts back. He is an adult but still a young man, the maybe-soccer coach cries. Haven’t you learned from COVID? Her reply explains everything and nothing. Someone offers her their chocolate pie from McDonalds. She squeals. Then the gangplank goes and the conversation is lost in the evening exodus.
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