The rain pings off the bottom of the small, tin dinghy and I tuck my body as far into the bow as I can manage. Dad’s silhouette is black against a deep plum sky. His hands grip the worn, wooden oars and his body moves mechanically, propelling us through the choppy river. I look over the edge of the boat into the murky depths. I’ve never seen the river look so dark, so rough, and so unknown. I imagine the monster that lives under the water that changes colour with the sky so you can’t see it lurking below. It’s watching us, waiting. The boat jerks with the current and I wonder if the monster is trying to capsize us. I can’t recognise where we are or how far we have to go, the riverbanks are hidden on the dark horizon. As the boat turns a bend in the river we start to sway again.

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