The Love Boats
When we first met, it was love at first sight. You were well-built and strong, sturdy steel sides carving a path through water. My gleaming white surfaces glistened in the sun as I glided past.
We said we’d go slow. No promises. No regrets.
But then, something happened, something neither of us expected. And now, there’s a jet ski in my hull. I think it’s yours.
I wait for your response, fingers clasped on my radio.
Static. Held breath. Then, “You are so weird. Call me later, and I’ll pick it up when I’m in port.”
This is my weekly submission for Friday Fictioneers. Our captain for this voyage is the ever-vigilant Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. For more stories or to add your own, click the froggy!