Faith shoved the body, weighed-down with junk she'd found in a dumpster, off the dock's edge and watched until the waves filled the water back in and there was nothing left to say he'd ever been there. She felt, unexpectedly, that she should say some words or give him a moment of silence or, well, something. “Not like I'm the singing Kumbaya type,” she told herself.
As the inevitable question formed in her mind, does he have a family, images flashed before her: a woman, huge with pregnancy, shielding her stomach as if from a blow; a couple of kids, their heads covered with tangled curls, asking, “Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?”; aging parents comforting each other as best they could.
As she walked backwards, away from the docks, her gaze never left the spot where she'd shoved him in. “He worked for the Mayor, how clean could he have been? Nobody's gonna miss scum like that.” Her back hit a wall and Faith turned and ran to lose herself in the dark alleyways.