All The World Can Hold – Jung Yun

She leans over it, staring at the black water, seemingly endless and bottomless, dappled with light. It’s cool outside, a few degrees shy of cold, and the breeze is a welcome relief. It makes it easier to ignore how painful her skin feels, like it’s being pulled tighter and tighter over her body—a sensation that’s getting worse by the hour.

She wonders at what point she’ll finally admit that the cruise is a disaster. Then she second-guesses the impulse, loath to use the term too lightly. Even with the sunburn and seasickness and missing luggage, “disaster” seems like an exaggeration, insensitive to the actual disasters going on in the world. Lucy barely has a minute alone with this thought before she notices a man walking toward her. He all but announces his presence, stopping to admire the elderly couple and shouting “Beautiful!

Beautiful!” at them in an accent she can’t quite make out over the engines. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him as he continues his beeline approach—white shirt, blue pants, white skin. He doesn’t have to say another word for her to dislike him. The whole setup makes her dislike him. She tenses, waiting to hear whatever dumb line he’s about to try on her. “So, I am not your type because…?” He’s now leaning over the same railing that she is, their elbows just inches apart.

Between what he said and how he said it—with an accent that she now clearly recognizes as Italian—she didn’t expect to be surprised, which forces her to turn and look at him. “What?” He smiles. “You say to your friend that I am not your type.” The man is dark haired and olive skinned, maybe ten or fifteen years older than she is—too old to wear his white linen shirt unbuttoned rakishly to midchest.

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You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox. 1kitap1.com/en 1kitap1.com/en To our nephews, with much love, pride, and hope 1kitap1.com/en The future is unwritten. —JOE STRUMMER 1kitap1.com/en Sunday, September 16 DEPART FROM NEW YORK PASSENGER SHIP TERMINAL, NEW YORK BLACK FALCON CRUISE TERMINAL, BOSTON 1kitap1.com/en 1. The man from Guest Services is named Jimmy.

Jimmy from Indonesia, two seemingly incompatible facts engraved on his brushed satin name tag. Franny is convinced that “Jimmy” isn’t his real name. She assumes he shortened it—or the cruise line told him to shorten it—from something long and unpronounceable to something effortless and “American.” Jimmy is all smiles and small talk as he shows them around the suite, opening doors to reveal the bathroom, the closet, the mini fridge, the personal safe, and voilà—he actually says “voilà” as he pulls back a curtain and gestures grandly with his arm—the private balcony.

Their view of the port is unremarkable. The port, in general, is unremarkable. Under the late afternoon clouds, the water appears murky, too dark to hold a reflection of the soot- and algae-stained warehouses on the pier. Franny leans toward the sliding glass door for a better look at a nearby ship, a mega-liner twice the size of their own.

She’s about to call her husband over when she notices him kneeling in front of the television set on the bureau. He’s aiming the remote at it, pressing random combinations of buttons too hard. “This thing’s not broken, is it?” Every channel Tom turns to is black, loud with static and filled with diagonal snow. “There’s no way I can go a whole week without the news.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 1a5c0357afbf4cb1
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 7,343,785 bytes (7.004 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 274
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 475.7 minutes
• Total Words: 95,140
• Total Characters: 537,813
• Average Words per Page: 347.23
• Average Characters per Page: 1962.82

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