Rock it, regular current

Don’t micromanage me young man. Was the last thing she said as she left. He sat there smugly. Sated from all the events that had lead up to the convergence and the moments just passed.

Genevieve and Sharmi drove their small blue fiat along the coast into town. Passing the fish and chip shops, hotels and the university. Stopping at the first set of lights, Gen put on the radio to Jazz. A proper English accent purred the next track title and they were off again.
“More marching band music?” Sharm questioned.
“Why not”.

The drove for five and then five more minutes, to find a parking space.

Genevieve had a sore throat from the night before and wondered what the best solution would be. She’d been seeing a guy for a week. Her love life was no frills and had its ups and down. Shar and her shared a flat down in the south east, along the coast for a little bit, where it was mostly quiet unless they invited over guest.

Sha suggested that they get some soothers or icecream. But Geneviev only shook her head and winced like a frog swallows. They were catching a cruise and had to park in long-term. The trip had been mostly paid for by work, they worked for themselves. Genevie pulled out her phone and wrote a quick text on a whim then slung her handbag over her shoulder.

The two of them walked up the uncomfortable ramp – its gradient lending itself towards the steeper climbs of its berth. Sh silently mused over the kill count of such a gangway while Genevi removed her camera lens deftly and took a photo of the water and the land, then the cruise ship with the sun in the background. They made a queer couple as the strolled abroad, but you could tell. It was an air. Maybe in their gait, jawline or posture. Both with shoulders pulled back, very clean hair. Edges where edges should be. Round only at the scarves and straps.

The book that Genev read that night was of little interest, she usually followed the tales with the fifty pages rule because
“life my darling is too short”.
“How do you know?”

S had a meeting with one of the patrons aboard and in the cabin across that night. It went well, she talked to them and set up a price for their service. They wanted a little bit more, like everyone seems to, but for a little bit less. Gene had echoed this for the years they’d known each other. It wasn’t OK there was a fee for everything, even international waters.

“Why did I get a book on pirates?” Gen moaned.
“Yes, indeed”
Why not Titanic or Peter Pan. She thought of her business and how nothing lasts. Ge sighed and pulled out her camera. The faux-wedding photography that she’d done for some friends snapped into sharp focus. She was removed, always, but this distance was her own tailored aesthetic. Numb to the wanton of others. Her lips were dry but years of lipstick wearing made her resist the urge.

Wondering if there were any animals aboard. G squeamishly turned off her camera and hugged herself. The radar blipped, once in the captains quarters. Technology had come a long way, but the green circle remained. Like space invaders, like pac-man or pokemon it was a refferential to something that unless you were there, looking, it was just a blip. And then it was gone.

The two women. Both of them, were gone.

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