Sunlight lit up the deck as John moved around Catherine, the camera clicking rapidly. He caught her laughing, her linen dress puffed up in the breeze, one hand resting gently on her stomach. Each photo felt like a way to hold onto a perfect afternoon with his wife.
Later, sitting by the helm, he flipped through the pictures. Catherine’s smile showed up again and again, like stills from a home video—until one image caught his attention. Something dark hovered just beyond the railing. It looked wrong—off in both shape and color.
He zoomed in. The blur sharpened slightly: a smooth, black surface curving just under the water. It was much longer than their forty-foot sloop. Not a rock. Not driftwood. The realization hit him hard, his breath catching as the scale of it became clear.