Sad story

Previously

…She finished her coffee and stood. "I should get back. Thank you for breakfast." "Anytime, dear." Eleanor walked home through the quiet streets, the lighthouse a constant presence at the edge of her vision. She thought about the canvases in her bedroom. She thought about the worn photograph in her wallet, the one she couldn't throw away. She thought about gray eyes and a steady voice and the way the sea kept moving, no matter what. When she got to the cottage, she stopped at the door and looked back at the lighthouse. The fog was gone now. The sky was a clear, pale blue. She went inside, picked up a box, and started to unpack.