Clyde watched the rowboat drift away along the river. He made little bets in his head on which way it would rotate next. He mostly got it wrong. He expected, or hoped, that it would veer more to the left. But just as it started left, it would jump right, like someone was trying to steer the boat away from the rapids. Though it was the rapids Clyde wanted. Finally it wafted into the coming darkness.
Two days later he was relieved to read that the only finger prints found on the boat belonged to the body found in it.