One January Morning, Part 20
On deck a half hour later, what convinced her of his implausible yarn was the sight of a black deckhand hanging off the port side and scrubbing barnacles from the ship. A black deckhand who she knew to be dead, who she had, in fact, killed with her own bare hands. The cop pointed, asking her if she knew who that was, and she said that she did but that she didn’t know his name.
But, of course, as soon as she said that, she realized that she did know, that, of course, it could be none other than:
“Morgan,” said the cop. Then, he continued. “This is the man you wronged,” he said. “This is the man who will bring the ultimate calamity down upon this Earth.”
And he was right. That was the man. I was the man.
To be continued…