#sledgefu

They wind up at the docks. The tang of the shipyards comes up off the water. Eugene makes to turn inland, towards home, but Merriell walks on without pausing, forcing Eugene to follow. It’s blue hour, and they’re the only souls pacing this particular strip of land. The wooden boards of the dock feel soft and rotten underfoot. Clouds lie low and dark on the horizon. Oakland glitters from across the bay.