Mourning

A few minutes ago, a co-worker came to tell me that the tugboats in Burrard Inlet were circling slowly to mourn their murdered colleague. I got up to have a look just as they all sounded their horns. It was the spookiest, most heart-rending sound. The boats were keening. With their slow, silent procession, they were hanging their heads with sadness and respect. It was terribly beautiful.