The Distant Summer
You are lying in the narrow cot of the staff dormitory, the mattress thin enough to feel the individual ribs of the box springs beneath, and you are dreaming of the sea. It is not the blue, inviting sea of postcards, but a vast, churning expanse of slate-grey water, cold and indifferent, stretching out until it meets a sky that is equally featureless. You are swimming, or perhaps you are...
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