The month was April of 1912. The tenth, if I remember right. The Titanic was beginning its journey across the North Atlantic. I saw you standing by your self at the bow of the ship. Staring down into the endless abyss of the water below us.

I approach you slowly. Not wanting to startle you, as I position my self beside you. My hands behind my back. “Are you alright lass?” I can’t help but ask in my heavy Scottish accent. My eyes glued on the horizon.