Seagull [Short Story]

It is cold on the quay and I am the only person there. I pull my coat collar up around and lean against the railings. The water is rough, rocking the few boats left out there on their buoys. The water sprays me, and I wipe it away. The taste of salt lingers on my lips. I always forget, no matter how many times I return there to the coast just how potent the fresh sea air and the salt is.

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