Emma watches her husband sail away.
Each time he drifts into the fog, he returns a different man — as if the mist keeps something behind.
His growing restlessness had imposed itself upon their dreams. And in the mornings, they talked as if the fog didn’t exist.
Faint mist encroaches the shore, drifting over and into littered bottles as they helplessly watch each other disappear. Emma closes her eyes against its grey interminable sadness and mystery, hoping he will return happy, fearing he may be lost forever, knowing the tides of unspoken love between them will soon be enshrouded completely.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting these Friday Fictioneer Challenges.