Anna looked at the water. Then at the sky, heavy with November.
HC took the telegram back, folded it carefully, and tucked it next to his heart. “Tomorrow. The first rig is a rust bucket held together by hope. But hope, Anna—hope is the one resource we’ve never drilled for.” Lykkeland -State of Happiness- - season 1 -HC E...
That night, Anna dreamed of oil seeping into her mother’s grave. HC dreamed of a city lit by flares instead of stars. Anna looked at the water
That stung. Anna’s father had lost a brother in the war. HC saw her flinch and softened his voice. “Tomorrow
“Just promise me one thing,” she said.
“You’re staring at the sea like it owes you money,” said Anna, pulling her scarf tighter. She was a fisherman’s daughter, her hands still raw from gutting mackerel that morning.
She looked at him—really looked. This man who had once taught her to tie knots, who had danced at her wedding, who had held her father’s hand when the last big storm took three men from the fleet.