Two‑Minute Story — Lantern at the Harbor

At dusk, Jacky carried a small lantern to the pier. Wind pressed against his jacket, and the ropes along the railing hummed softly.

Boats nodded in their slips, blinking with red and green lights. The sea breathed in steady swells, as if counting.

He lit the lantern. A thin circle of warmth pooled on the boards, and the air smelled of brine and pine tar.

Far off, a bell buoy chimed. Jacky spoke a wish under his breath—a simple sentence that felt like a compass.

When he turned to leave, the lantern still glowed behind him, a small star that made the harbor seem nearer than the night.