The small, dark girl appeared again. The sailor thought he remembered. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘These games will never end.’ The small, dark girl raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘It’s what you were going to say,’ the sailor said. ‘Was I?’ she replied. ‘I don’t recall.’ Folding her arms, she chewed her bottom lip, her dark brows knitting over glittering eyes, drops of jet looking down, focused on what, the sailor did not know. ‘This doesn’t feel right,’ the sailor thought. His legs were itching for motion, but he remained rooted to the spot. What age passed, he didn’t know, but eventually he took up his shovel again and started to push more games through the opening in the green metal container. ‘Isn’t there something else you should tell me?’ he said over his shoulder to the small, dark girl who was no longer there. In her place was a different girl, sitting at a table alone. The sailor watched her for a while, shovel frozen in mid-air. The girl at the table seemed not to know he was there. The sailor got the feeling she was somewhere surrounded by people and he was looking at her from the wrong direction.