Arthur Finch woke up just before sunrise, like he always did. A faint glow was starting to show in the east, visible through the salt-streaked window of his small bedroom. He could hear the soft sound of waves hitting the shingle beach outside—steady and familiar.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet landing on the cool, worn floorboards. The cottage still smelled faintly of last night’s fire and the salty sea air—both scents he’d grown used to over the years.