stones

There is a faint roaring, but no wind. Surf.  I gather stones from around my feet and throw lthem out into the mist, sounding the depths of the air. Somewhere in front of me the stones disappear,  clattering far below. I crawl forward,  stones sharp under my hands and knees until suddenly the earth ends and the mist roils over the edge to join the spray from the surf below.


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