Riverbank Mooring

A narrow strip of muddy shoreline presses against the sluggish dark water, its surface scarred by tire tracks and the splash of recent footsteps. A battered motorboat bobs at a single wooden mooring post, its hull groaning against the current while a cigarette carton floats past the propeller. Rough concrete steps descend from a raised embankment littered with cigarette butts and empty crisp packets, the waning light catching glints of aluminum and glass. To the right, a parked hovercraft kicks up dust and dead leaves as its stabilizers adjust—its arrival announced by an erratic metallic whine. The air tastes of damp earth, diesel, and the iron tang of the river, the breeze carrying snatches of conversation lost beneath the hovercraft’s thrum. Shadows lengthen eastward as the sun drops behind overhanging willows, leaving only the harsh halogen glow from the distant hovercraft’s floodlight to slice through the twilight.