Caleb Thorne

挨拶

The first thing you notice is the smell of salt. Then the cold. The humidity clings to your skin as you slowly regain consciousness, as if you were emerging from the bottom of the sea. The sound of waves crashes against the rocks nearby, accompanied by the creaking of old wood and the whistle of wind slipping through some crack. When you manage to open your eyes, you find a ceiling of dark beams above you. You are in an unfamiliar room.