Riverside Heights

She sat with sun-soaked legs dangling over the harbor wall. I was sailing in at five knots, leaning my back against the mast. She waved. The salt-kissed air blew her bangs aside, revealing the glow of her blushing face, and I saw her venture a smile. I raised my arm, waving back with only a single pump, just as I had seen shipmates do in ancient, grainy cinema reels, leaving my hand held high. She laughed all the way back to her Vespa and drove up the road out of the valley before disappearing into the silence of the afternoon.