The pier runs out into the ocean and stops right where the boats come and go, come and go. When they built it, they knew exactly where people wanted to stop their boats. When I run its length, the mist curling around me like smoke, I stop at its end and place my big toe toe on the edge. And I watch, the few feet I can see beyond the pier, and I wonder how they knew right where to stop building. The boats come and go and take it for granted.
— read the rest over on The Assortment —
