Elias told himself it would pass. Trends moved fast, according to Della’s grandson, a young villager who knew about such things. People would film the cliffs, buy overpriced chowder, and leave when the next beautiful place appeared on their glowing little screens.
But they did not leave. Each morning, more boats arrived, and each evening, the dock grew louder. Music thudded over the water. Drones whined above the moorings. People laughed into their cameras while fishermen waited with crates growing warm in their hands.