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Weekly Contest #228
Bustle, gloomy faces, rotted food stalls, and all the lonely people. He stood in the middle of the market amongst the rabble, watching them. The sky was always gray in England, and he couldn’t wait to leave it – and the people under it – for another journey. Jack Nelson was a good sailor. When he was sober. He had wits of steel when he could summon them, and a sense of direction so acute you would think he’d never get lost. But the man was lost, in a certain manner of speaking. He’d heard all the rumors, how he’d be a captain already...
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