Gisela

The boat was called Gisela. Little thing on the Spree, beautiful Berlin weather, a captain who actually looked like he belonged there, and a buffet that had no right being that good. Even brought the dog along. Even the dog seemed pleased.

Chaos. Jessi spent the afternoon taking the thing apart from the inside. Simone nearly went overboard and someone was screaming get your legs in! at her. We looked like tourists to anyone with eyes. I didn’t care.

But something about floating there—the sun, the food, all that stupid happy chaos—it felt like an ending. We’d been at this job for four weeks, real work that somehow turned out to matter. That evening we had presentations, then beer after. Next week back to school. Saturday I’m heading to the Baltic. Everyone’s ready. Everyone’s excited about what’s coming.

I was too. But on the water that day, with Jessi destroying things and Bonnie wandering around and the Spree carrying us in circles, it just felt like a goodbye to something good.