Over Water Even with her teary eyes closed, Alice's '79 Celica continues its trip home, the last vestiges of heat fading from thin floorboards. She sits behind the wheel, a cold February sun setting in the ferry's wake. It's a trip she's made dozens of times before, but today she rides home with no extra kisses on her lips, no extra bounce in her step, no extra coins in her purse. After a time, Alice's eyes open just long enough to check her phone (still no messages) and to notice that the sunset behind her has faded to black, leaving nothing but the lights of the ferry and the slow pulsing of the lighthouse ahead. She gives in to the cold, dries her eyes, and hurries up the windy steps to the passenger cabin to wait out the rest of the trip.