The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:39:49 -

The fog had been sitting on the harbor for three days. It smelled of brine and rotting kelp. I had not slept. My hands shook. I held the coat. It was wool. Heavy. Dark blue. It smelled of my father. He was gone. But the coat remained. The town whispered. They said the fog was hungry. They said it took names. They said it took skin. I did not listen. I am a scholar. I study things. I do not...

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