That ferry's wake is doing a better job at drawing lines than I ever could in school.

The ferry sliced through the harbor with an effortless grace, leaving behind a frothy trail that dissolved as quickly as it appeared. Onboard passengers leaned against the railings, their silhouettes small against the expanse of water and sky. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance—glass towers rising like sentinels above the tree-lined shores. I sat on the grass nearby, watching the scene unfold as though it were an old film reel. A seagull landed a few feet away from me, its eyes sharp and calculating as it scanned for crumbs. The breeze carried with it a faint hum of engines and distant laughter from unseen corners of the bay.