← All confessions · Vacation Fling 2026-10-11

The Last Ferry

Santorini, a Swedish sailor, and the ferry she was supposed to be on.

How it started

My last day in Santorini. I'd packed, checked out and sat at the port with my suitcase two hours early, as one does. A man with a ridiculous sunburn and a Swedish accent asked if I could watch his bag while he bought water. We got talking. He was sailing round the islands on a small boat with two friends and invited me to see it before my ferry. I said I'd take a quick look. The boat had a hammock. The hammock had a view. The ferry horn sounded across the water and I watched it leave from the deck with my phone in my hand and absolutely no regrets.

Then it happened

I spent four days sailing between islands, eating grilled fish and jumping into turquoise water. I called my boss from a beach and claimed food poisoning. He still mentions how pale I looked when I got back. I wasn't pale. I'd never been more tanned in my life. He sends me a photo of the boat every summer, with an empty hammock. It works every time.

The morning after

Her boss still brings up the food poisoning at every team meeting. Her colleagues saw the Instagram stories, which showed a suspiciously healthy tan and a hammock. The Swede visits every summer, and the office has stopped believing her sick days entirely.