Prob­a­bly Doomed and Per­plex­ing­ly Mer­ry, the nar­ra­tor finds them­selves steer­ing their small ves­sel along the misty Michi­gan coast­line, accom­pa­nied by Sol, a young girl who is sleep­ing sound­ly in the for­ward bunk. As the nar­ra­tor reflects on the weight and warmth of her small frame, there is a sense of unease, a deep respon­si­bil­i­ty weigh­ing on them as they strug­gle to adjust to the new dynam­ic of car­ing for Sol. The jour­ney is long, and though the sea offers a sense of calm, the nar­ra­tor can­not shake the grow­ing appre­hen­sion about what lies ahead. Anchored in Mis­ery Bay, a peace­ful but iso­lat­ed cove, they take a moment to brew cof­fee in the gal­ley while con­tem­plat­ing the canal that leads to Red­field and Griff—a man whose inten­tions remain unclear. An unease slow­ly set­tles in, as they won­der if deliv­er­ing Sol into Griff’s hands is the right choice, know­ing that this next step could alter the course of their lives.

As the day begins to unfold, their morn­ing is inter­rupt­ed by a dis­turb­ing sight—a bloat­ed, life­less body drift­ing toward them. It’s a stark reminder of the per­ils of the lake, and as the nar­ra­tor instinc­tive­ly tries to shield Sol from this grim real­i­ty, her reac­tion sur­pris­es them. Rather than show­ing fear or dis­tress, Sol appears remark­ably non­cha­lant, iden­ti­fy­ing the body as an “uncle” lost to the lake. The nar­ra­tor, want­i­ng to pro­tect her from the harsh­ness of life, is help­less as Sol, dri­ven by some deep­er sense of respect, insists that they must give the body a prop­er bur­ial. With a mix­ture of res­ig­na­tion and deter­mi­na­tion, the two of them drag the body ashore, trans­form­ing the grim task into a shared moment of solemn respect, acknowl­edg­ing the life lost with­out fear or hes­i­ta­tion.

With the task com­plete, the day con­tin­ues, and they set sail toward Red­field, enter­ing the canal they hope will short­en their jour­ney. As they nav­i­gate the waters, the nar­ra­tor reads from Folsum’s Anchor­ages, recount­ing the region’s beau­ty and charm, but Sol remains skep­ti­cal, dis­miss­ing the descrip­tions as naïve or exag­ger­at­ed. A storm begins to brew on the hori­zon, rais­ing the stakes of their jour­ney as they work against the clock to find shel­ter. The canal entrance final­ly comes into view, and though it is far less impres­sive than the nar­ra­tor had imag­ined, it still marks a cru­cial point in their journey—an open­ing to some­thing new and unknown. As they anchor in the canal, the atmos­phere shifts from tense antic­i­pa­tion to a moment of calm, and for the first time in what feels like an eter­ni­ty, they can relax.

As the day draws to a close, a sense of relief wash­es over them, though it is quick­ly dis­rupt­ed when Sol notices a kite float­ing in the sky. Her reac­tion is one of fear, as she sees the kite as a poten­tial omen or a “watch­ful pres­ence” that could bring dan­ger. The nar­ra­tor, try­ing to soothe her, reas­sures Sol, telling her that the kite is a sym­bol of hope—an affir­ma­tion of their efforts to bury the body and escape from Richard’s clutch­es. They enjoy a mod­est meal of veg­etable soup in the cock­pit, the warmth of the food and the stormy air out­side cre­at­ing a sense of peace amid the uncer­tain­ty. Despite the approach­ing storm and the chal­lenges that lie ahead, the con­nec­tion between the nar­ra­tor and Sol grows stronger, as they share this brief respite togeth­er, ready to face what­ev­er the future holds with resolve and deter­mi­na­tion. With a grow­ing sense of pur­pose, they take com­fort in their com­pan­ion­ship, draw­ing strength from one anoth­er as they pre­pare to con­tin­ue their jour­ney through the unpre­dictable waters ahead.