The sea that evening looked tame enough to trust. A thin orange ribbon of light stretched across the water, the kind that made even broken nets look golden. Elias steered his trawler toward the docks, humming under his breath, salt drying on his forearms.
He was still new to the village, three months in, maybe four. The kind of outsider who got nods but not conversations, respect but not company. The old fishermen tolerated him, mostly because he paid his mooring fees on time and didn’t talk too much. Out here, that was enough.