Harbor Lights

The man at the lighthouse didn't want to talk.

Sophie had walked up the rocky path to ask about supplies—the lighthouse keeper was rumored to know where to find the best fish—but the tall, bearded stranger just nodded toward the harbor and turned away.

"Not very friendly," she called after him.

He paused, glanced back. For a moment, their eyes met. His were the color of storm clouds, and held secrets Sophie suddenly wanted to understand.

"Friendly enough," he said quietly, "to those who stay."