We were walking on the beach when the boat came in. Heard the shouts, saw crowds flock to where it was mooring. And joined them.
Jostling to see.
It took six men to hoist it off the rocking boat. And as seagulls screeched their accusations overhead two men rolled it over, then one man cut.
A briny rotten scent pierced the summer’s day as mucus covered plastic birthed from within. I saw the welly. Yellow amid the detritus. Thought of the missing sailor. Dragged the children quickly away promising ice creams. Not wanting us to witness his discovery.