29 April 2023

The Lighthouse


Every single evening of every single day, the old man would sit on the same chair by the window for hours.

Every single evening of every single day, after lighting up the oil lamp inside the Fresnel lens, he would accompany the sun to set down, then sit and put his attention to the same spot on the open sea.

Every single evening of every single day, at exactly 10 PM there would be a boat far on the southwest direction, sending out an exact same pattern of blips to the lighthouse. The blips would come and go as the night closed down to the dawn.

Until six months ago, for about a year long, the blips were the beacon for the lighthouse.

Since six months ago, to this day it blipped no more.

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