Their voices carried on, loud and frantic, until someone finally echoed what Elias had been thinking: “Wait—look. It’s sliding past. It’s not going to crash.” Like a tide pulling back, the fear in the crowd began to ebb. Laughter, nervous and shaky, replaced cries of alarm. Mothers soothed their children. Fishermen clapped each other on the shoulder.
Already, some turned away, ready to head back down the cliff and return to their interrupted morning routines. But Elias couldn’t move. His eyes lingered on the rusted giant, on the leaning containers and shattered windows. The whole thing looked deserted, a ghost drifting on the current.