A weak light flickers from the crew quarters forward. The passageway smells of wet wood and tar. You can barely make out the doorways aft that lead to your cabin and the stowage.

Have you accomplished what you came to the city for? You can barely recall. When was the last time you accomplished something, completely and definitely, so you could draw a line around a part of your life and say "here, I did this"? Is that something that an honest adult can say, even if he has raised a child, painted a picture, ended a war?
vortex