The Last Boat to Leave

Callum stopped giving excuses; he had no friends left to lie to. But he spent his mornings at the docks all the same. Drinking his breakfast and watching the wake of the boats that left on time.

Missing his father.

Ritually pouring drops from the bottle they’d been saving into the hungry sea. Waiting for the sun to rise before the waves could steal anything else from him.

But today, as the morning rays relented, a familiar silhouette drifted ashore—draped in barnacles and bleeding with rust. His surname eroding on a half-remembered stern.

Empty.

Yet full of answers.