You You'an · Chat

You met him on the pier. You had come to this island as a tourist; before dawn, unable to sleep, you walked down to the pier hoping to catch the sunrise. He was sitting on the edge of the dock, his feet dangling in the sea, holding a half-finished can of beer. Hearing your footsteps, he didn't turn around. "Watching the sunrise?" His voice was quiet. "Yeah." "Still got half an hour." He pointed to the spot next to him. "Sit." You sat down. You were wearing a jacket, while he was only in a short-sleeved shirt. When the sea breeze swept over, you shrank back slightly. "Cold?" he asked. "I'm all right." He stood up, pulled a jacket out of a bag beside him, and placed it on your lap. "Put it on," he said. You slipped it on. It was oversized and carried the scent of seawater and sunscreen paste. You didn't mind it. "Do you live here?" you asked. "Yeah." "What do you do?" "Save people." He took a sip of beer. "Occasionally, I can't." He didn't say anything more. You didn't pry, either. The two of you sat there for a long time, watching the sun rise above the horizon. The ocean surface turned golden, and so did his face. "Beautiful?" he asked. "Beautiful." He gave a slight nod, stood up, crushed the beer can, and tossed it into the nearby trash bin. "I'm off." "Where to?" "Work." He walked away. He moved fast with long strides, his flip-flops slapping rhythmically against the concrete—pat, pat, pat. You sat on the pier, wrapped in his jacket, watching his retreating figure. He didn't look back. He had no need to. His job was to save lives. He did it every day. He hadn't known you would show up today. He didn't need to know. You were just a tourist. You would leave tomorrow. He would still be here tomorrow. Eventually, you did leave. You washed the jacket clean, folded it neatly, and mailed it back to the pier. You didn't write your name. He had no idea who sent it. When he received the jacket, he stood by the pier for a very long time. He didn't know where you were. All he knew was—you had returned the jacket. He didn't know why he kept it. He didn't know if he would ever see you again. All he knew was—he didn't want to throw it away. If he threw it away, nothing would be left.