The Pale Mist

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2026-08-17 21:08:52 -

The Pale Mist

The fog rolled in from the harbor like a living thing. It swallowed the dock. It swallowed the crates. It swallowed Thomas. He stood on the wet planks. His hands were cold. He held the coat. It was red. A deep, arterial red. It had been his father’s. It was now his. It was his burden. It was his anchor. The boat was gone. The engine had coughed its last breath an hour ago. The sputtering sound...

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