The Barrelman

The ocean rolled onward in all directions, disappearing under itself in the distance. The sun pushed forcibly on the barrelman’s shoulders, threatening him with the daunting fall from the crow’s nest.

His eyes were tired. The light flashing off of the waves had filled them with dull purple, and when he did occasionally glance at his maps and the tools in his hands, the lines he had drawn only moments ago were lost to his vision. “I wonder what they’d do if I told them we’re lost”, he said aloud to himself, but quietly.

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