“Are you really on board with this plan?” Thomas whispered as the fog rolled in thick over the docks.
I nodded, though my throat felt dry and rough.
Without my voice, I couldn’t speak, but the urgency in his eyes made me understand this was the moment to get the ball rolling.
The smell of salt and wood smoke filled the air, and ships creaked softly, like old ghosts waking.
We needed to take stock of what we had before the traders arrived.
My side hustle as a musician was ruined—losing my voice was a steep learning curve, like falling into cold water suddenly.
Thomas handed me a small letter, a heads-up from an old friend who said she would drop by soon.
“If she comes, we can flesh out the details,” he said, rubbing his chin.
I wished I could ask him more, but silence was my only answer.
When the first light tore across the horizon, a familiar figure appeared on the pier.
“I didn’t expect you here,” I thought, heart pounding.
She smiled and said, “Point taken on your silence, but I brought the performance bonus—a chance to slay this coming season together.”
My hands trembled as I reached out, realizing that sometimes, losing something teaches you how to leverage what you still have.
No need to throw in the towel today—not when the dawn promised a new sound rising from the old port.
