waiting woman

Captain Billy’s ferry, though much larger, drooped like an old waiting woman.

“Everything was washed away,” one waiting woman, Rosita Cuanda, said.

“Everything was washed away,” one waiting woman, Rosita Cuanda, said.

As we lugged our bags toward the door, my father grumbling about con men and false advertising, I glanced back at the Waiting Woman and wondered if she wasn’t just waiting for someone to bring her a drink.

A thought I had no time to entertain flitted through my head—Hey, where’d the 'Waiting Woman go?—but then I came to a low wall and had to concentrate on vaulting it—plant the hand, lift the feet, swing over.