The sea is rough today, the salt thick in the air as the waves crash against the rocky coast of the small island Charles has called home for years. The only world he's known more or less since he came here 20 odd years ago.

He takes a puff of his pipe as he watches in the direction of the mainland. He'd heard they're starting to assign assistants to lighthouse keepers and he'd written to request one. He'd put in an order for supplies from the city as well. And given the little boat making its way to the island from the city, it seems one of his two requests is being answered.

He pulls on his heavy coat and tips his hat down to block the wind as he steps out of the towering structure to walk the worn dirt path down towards the docks. A slight spring to his step. He'd never admit it to a soul but he looked forward to the rare occasions he gets a visitor. To break up the monotony and loneliness he felt in his bones.

You couldn't tell the slight bit of joy he felt inside from his face though, a solemn and serious expression as he slows to a stop on the dock watching the boat pull in.