Martello Tower

The fog was sitting on the line as they drove up the hill towards the Martello Tower. Franklin loved the way that it always sat at a predictable height, the warm air and the cold bay conspiring to shroud the headland in a soft white blanket, safe from the world.

Jenna pulled the car into the side of the road and they headed up to the tower on foot. It was a long standing tradition of homecoming that they had kept since leaving for college. On the first day that they were both back in town they would head up to the Martello and blaze one up and tell each other the whole truth about everything that happened since the last time they had said their goodbyes at the bus station.

They found somewhere to sit, and Jenna pulled a loose joint out of her glasses case. She put it into her mouth, reversed, to gently wet the paper and make the joint burn slow, then turned it back and lit it, the zippo that she had always used sheltered by her left hand.

Franklin could feel himself being at home; it had been a long road.

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