The ferry looks like it’s racing the sun to clock out for the day.

The ferry cut through the water with a hum that seemed to harmonize with the rhythm of the evening. Above it, the bridge arched like a colossal gateway to something unseen. The sun hung low, its light spilling over everything with a kind of careless generosity. People on board leaned against railings, their faces lit by both anticipation and the glow of the horizon. A tall-masted ship lingered in the distance, as if trying to remind us of slower times. The scent of saltwater mingled with faint traces of engine oil as I watched the ferry leave its foamy trail behind—a fleeting signature on an ever-changing canvas.