In the hospital room, squeezed into the tiny section allotted him, we were for a moment thrown back to that time. Michael looked out at the tops of the buildings against the fading sky and saw, far to the west, what he called his ocean liner.
The perfect first line. How we chase it, scrambling phrases and our brains, seeking magic words to pop open our stories like magic keys. Tougher, can be that last line; tougher because it's culminating an entire world.