The river stretched out in front of him, its surface dark and endless beneath the muted glow of the moon. Joe stood at the edge of the barge, cigarette in hand, the faint scent of damp wood and coal drifting in the air around him. The night was quiet, but his mind wasn’t. It never was.

The lyrics of a song he’d heard once in some smoky backroom floated through his thoughts. “I’ll love you like a sailor loves the sea…” It had stuck with him, that line. There was something about it—wild, restless, and unsteady. Just like him. Just like the way he felt about her.

She was inside the barge, curled up in his bunk, waiting for him. Her presence was like the tide, pulling at him, steady and relentless. But Joe wasn’t the kind of man who could just stay.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him as he stared at the water. “A sailor doesn’t love the sea because it’s safe,” he thought. “He loves it because it’s the only thing that’ll have him.”

Joe exhaled sharply, flicking the cigarette into the river before heading back inside. She was still awake when he entered, her eyes following him as he leaned against the small wooden table, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re brooding again,” she said, her voice soft but laced with an edge he knew all too well.

He smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”