A Veil Across the Ocean

The midday glare outside urged me along the pavement and into the quiet depth of the antiquarian bookshop. In an arched alcove at the back, an antique mahogany flat-file drawer lay pulled ajar, displaying an engraved nautical chart of a sprawling, sunny archipelago—far too bright and uncharted for polite company. Beside the paper lay an antique lead plumb bob and a discarded, dry square of blackened bookbinder's carbon paper. Stepping smoothly onto the wide wooden runner, I took the delicate carbon leaf between my hands. With slow, measured poise, I laid it squarely over the gleaming ocean quadrant, weighting its center with the cold lead plumb. The blinding white water surrendered instantly into a calm, fathomless charcoal gulf.