K
Kynna
Guest
Original poster
In the easternmost reach of Maine, there was the small town of Lubec. Located on the nation's border with Canada, this fishing town has managed to hold its own. The locals weren't too happy when a nation-wide fishing company bought out most of their stores, but some argue that it's helped the local economy, bringing in more fish and more tourists. Dylan was in the middle on this issue, as his own company had been bought out, but he'd been hired soon after.
He stood at the pier now, the ship loading for another week-long journey. His daughter was clinging to his leg, her arms wrapped around it in a tight grip. Tear stains showed on her chubby cheeks and, though she had stopped crying, her brows were furrowed and lower lip jutted out in a frowning pout. Dylan set his bag down on his other side and knelt down so he was closer to her height. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into a big hug and kissed the top of her head.
"Daddy, you can't go," he heard her say for the seventh time that hour, at least. He smiled warmly at her and kissed her head again. "I have to go, sweetie," he returned. "You know I'll be back in a week to tell you all about it. Mind your Mama while I'm gone." He gave her a gentle squeeze as he felt her start to shake with quiet sobs again. "I love you, pumpkin. I'll see you in a week." He picked her up and kissed the top of her head as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung as tight as she could. Her mother, Alice, walked over and helped Dylan gently pry Rachel from his neck. He gave her a thankful glance as he picked up his bag.
"See you, baby girl," he told his daughter before he joined the rest of his crewmates on the ship. It broke his heart to hear her yell, scream, and cry for him to come back. It always broke his heart, but they needed the money, and he needed to save for her school that would start next year. Stepping onto the ship, he moved to stand against the side and waved back at his daughter. She reached towards him, as if he could lift her up from that distance and hold her close. "I love you, baby," he yelled, not that anyone could hear him over the noise of the ship's horn. Hell, he couldn't hear himself. He continued waving as the ship began to depart, and stood watching the shore until the pier was nothing more than an ant on the horizon.
"Clinton, get to work," he heard the gruff voice of his boss bark. "Yes, sir," Dylan answered and walked quickly to his bunk to drop off his bag, then went to his post.
He stood at the pier now, the ship loading for another week-long journey. His daughter was clinging to his leg, her arms wrapped around it in a tight grip. Tear stains showed on her chubby cheeks and, though she had stopped crying, her brows were furrowed and lower lip jutted out in a frowning pout. Dylan set his bag down on his other side and knelt down so he was closer to her height. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into a big hug and kissed the top of her head.
"Daddy, you can't go," he heard her say for the seventh time that hour, at least. He smiled warmly at her and kissed her head again. "I have to go, sweetie," he returned. "You know I'll be back in a week to tell you all about it. Mind your Mama while I'm gone." He gave her a gentle squeeze as he felt her start to shake with quiet sobs again. "I love you, pumpkin. I'll see you in a week." He picked her up and kissed the top of her head as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung as tight as she could. Her mother, Alice, walked over and helped Dylan gently pry Rachel from his neck. He gave her a thankful glance as he picked up his bag.
"See you, baby girl," he told his daughter before he joined the rest of his crewmates on the ship. It broke his heart to hear her yell, scream, and cry for him to come back. It always broke his heart, but they needed the money, and he needed to save for her school that would start next year. Stepping onto the ship, he moved to stand against the side and waved back at his daughter. She reached towards him, as if he could lift her up from that distance and hold her close. "I love you, baby," he yelled, not that anyone could hear him over the noise of the ship's horn. Hell, he couldn't hear himself. He continued waving as the ship began to depart, and stood watching the shore until the pier was nothing more than an ant on the horizon.
"Clinton, get to work," he heard the gruff voice of his boss bark. "Yes, sir," Dylan answered and walked quickly to his bunk to drop off his bag, then went to his post.