So when dusk came, he untied his skiff. The church bell rang out over the village, deep and heavy. Most people shut their doors. Erik just adjusted the strap of his life vest, flicked on his running light, and pushed off. The outboard coughed once, then steadied, carrying him out into open water.
The sea felt strange. No gulls circled. The surface looked stretched flat, almost artificial, the way a pond goes still before someone throws a rock. He eased back on the throttle, letting the engine settle into a low hum. The silence pressed harder with every yard he drifted.