Eyes of the Harbor
Sep 10, 2019
3 minutes
—Krista Karlson
As the ship pitches and rolls 25 miles east of New York City, I think I’ll be sick. I try to keep it together as I chat with men wearing ties and suits. They sit on a deep leather couch, leaning back with legs crossed and paying no heed to the waves. It makes sense, I suppose, for people who have made their lives at sea. A strong stomach is practically a job requirement.
The Sandy Hook Pilots
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