Walter’s unpainted wooden fishing boat bumped gently against the dock pilings as the water shifted.

The green paint on the gunwales had flaked away decades ago, showing the weathered cedar planks underneath.

I untied the hemp bow line from the iron cleat and stepped down onto the middle seat.

The wood creaked under my boots, but the boat floated solid and steady in four feet of clear water.

I took the brass key fob out of my pocket and laid it flat on the wooden bench beside the blue ledger.

The stamped brass tag caught the last pale beam of sunlight coming through the pine branches.