41
An unfamiliar fisherman arrived the next evening. Striding straight up the little wooden stairs right onto the veranda, he held a large piece of carp pie out to N.
“I fish not far from here,” he said with a shy smile, the wrinkles on his narrow, unshaven face smoothing away. “I see you always have the light on at midnight. It’s obvious: the man’s working, not looking after himself, I must take him something! My wife bakes these pies… Take it, please, as one ship’s captain to another…”
N. broke a piece off right away. The fish was tender and surprisingly tasty. N. didn’t even know how to thank the fisherman.
Having bade farewell, the fisherman retraced his steps down the little stairs, untied his rowing boat and sailed on; he worked nights and early mornings. N. felt a warm sensation
