I can’t resist this Friday Fictioneers‘ photo prompt. Memories from rides on the Staten Island Ferry wash over me like the cold, salty mist of the harbor.  I’m including a 100 word excerpt from my first novel Up in the Bronx. In the excerpt, Herb Rose, in the midst of his mid-life crisis (actually, it’s an end of the life crisis) has just cut out from work. He heads for the ferry and rides it back and forth a coupla times.  Ah, the view from the deck!

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As the big ferry edged out of the slip, he opened the door to the sunny front deck, walked up to the bridge, and looked out over the harbor. The cold air rushed at his face as the boat began to surge forward and gain momentum. The great noise of the wind, the power of it all, the vista of all the cold, grey water heaving up against the bow — all spoke of a tremendous freedom of a great mysterious world.

“What a pleasure to have a day like this,” he said to himself.

He looked out at the Statue of Liberty – off to his right – and the grey Jersey shore in the distance. The Staten Island shore was off to the left, and he reminded himself of the nautical word port. The enormous expanse of water was all around, the wind blowing hard and high. Rose stood out on the deck and watched as the land slowly grew closer.

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