tapping

She was fairly certain the anticipation was going to kill her. She could feel the oppression of it on her chest. She clutched her camera closer and leaned against the rail for support. In an attempt to appear nonchalant, she peered into the vast whiteness. But her heart was pounding, and she was sure every person on that ferry could hear. Could feel. The pounding.

She could almost see the shore. She wanted to jump up and down like a child, but knew that would be undignified and clutched the camera closer still. She made a whining sound with her nose and tried to play it off by snapping a photo of nothing.

Tried and failed. She knew everyone else knew she had lost her mind, and she was sure she saw them inch away. But the anticipation was oppressive. She tapped the toe of her boot against the rail. Perhaps the slight tapping would move the ferry a little faster. She shifted her weight and snapped a shot of the now visible shore.

Quickly she turned and walked rapidly to the front of the boat. She would be the first on shore.