The Crossing

Dennis sat quietly in the prow of the boat, hands in his lap.

The old ferryman scrutinized his lone passenger from under his unruly white eyebrows as he propelled them silently across the water.

"Young man, I do not understand."

Shaken from his reverie by the old man's voice, Dennis looked up.

"What's that?"

"You paid your fare, you made the crossing, and now you return. Why?"

"Oh, that," Dennis replied. "I didn't pay. I'm not even dead. I was just checking on someone, and now that I'm sure he's there, I can go home and relax."

The ferryman shrugged.