Fiction | December 01, 2003

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It was said that boys should go on their first sea voyage at the age of ten, but surely this notion was never put forth by anyone’s mother. If the bay were to be raised one degree in temperature for every woman who had lost the man or child she loved at sea, the water would have been boiling, throwing off steam even in the dead of winter, poaching the bluefish and herrings as they swam.

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