The water station was almost empty.
TSUF stopped there out of habit, not thirst. The barrel was half-covered, the ladle resting where someone had dropped it rather than placed it. He lifted it, let a little water spill back, then drank. It tasted the same as always.
A man stood on the other side of the barrel, sleeves rolled unevenly, watching the pier without looking at anything in particular. He nodded once when TSUF finished.
"Busy," the man said.
TSUF nodded back. "Enough."
They stood there. The noise from the dock reached them in fragments—wood on wood, a laugh cut short, someone calling a name that wasn't answered.
The man adjusted his sleeve. "You were near the warehouses earlier."
"Yes."
"You work there now?"
"Sometimes."
The man considered that, as if it were a complete answer. He dipped the ladle, drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He did not ask anything else.
TSUF waited.
The moment stretched, thin but present. He could feel it pass, like a door left open just long enough for a draft.
"You should watch your step," the man said finally. Not a warning. Not advice. Just a statement offered and released.
"I do," TSUF said.
The man nodded again, satisfied. He turned and walked away toward the noise, blending into it without effort.
TSUF remained by the barrel longer than necessary. He replaced the ladle where it had been before. It slipped slightly, then settled.
He realized then what had been missing.
Not suspicion. Not concern. Curiosity.
The man hadn't tried to place him. Hadn't checked for a story that fit. He hadn't asked why TSUF was where he was, or what he'd seen, or what he planned to do next.
People usually asked.
TSUF left the station and returned to the pier. Work closed around him easily, like it always had. Orders came. Paths opened. No one slowed.
By the time he noticed, the moment for questions had already passed.
And no one seemed interested in finding it again.