The Quiet Water, page 8 of 15

The storm has scattered Pip's white pebbles and laid a high line of weed, and the marked reed still stands; Pip looks up at it.

Eleven marks, then a storm that rearranged the beach and left the reed standing.

He thanked it out loud, and heard what his voice had become, and stopped thanking things.

© 2026 A.J.Sharpe