Gemotions

The lighthouse keeper, Thomas, adjusted his spectacles, sweeping his gaze across the churning grey sea. The rhythmic pulse of the lamp, usually a comfort, felt hollow today. He’d anticipated his usual Sunday visit from Old Man Hemlock, the retired captain who taught him about the stars. He’d brought a new map to show him.

He’d prepared the usual tea, setting out two mugs and biscuits. The wind howled, a mournful sound. He sat on the bench, facing the ocean, taking deep breaths. He studied the sea birds. He noticed how the light struck the waves.

Hours drifted by, marked only by the shifting light and the cries of the gulls. The tea grew cold. He finally put away the tea things. He took the map back to the room and spent some time rearranging his books on navigation.

The following morning, a letter arrived, brought by a passing fishing boat, explaining everything.