Letters from the light house

d the wind carried with it the scent of salt and secrets. Clara Walsh arrived on a storm-stirred afternoon, the rain cold and relentl

She dropped her suitcase by the fireplace and let

here to b

here t

mantle, and stacks of yellowing books leaned against the walls. As Clara walked through each room,

crash against the cliffs below. She didn't know what she expected from this plac

ence whispered that a s