The Anchor of Redemption
The night Marcus Johnson first heard about the floating community, the Hudson River was the color of hammered lead and the jazz from a corner bar on 125th Street drifted across the water like smoke. He was sitting on the dock behind his office, a small wooden building that smelled of mildew and ambition, counting the week's receipts. Twelve boats. That's all he owned. Twelve barges and cargo...
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