Welcome to Stories from Among the Stars.

You're listening to The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Clune, narrated by Daniel Henning.

19. Three weeks later, nothing much had changed. Oh, yes, he dreamed of the ocean,

of an island with white sandy beaches. He dreamed of a garden and a copse of trees that

hit a little house. He dreamed of a burnt cellar door, and the day the music died, and of the way

Lucy laughed. The way Talia muttered in

Nomish, the way Sal could be so big, but felt so little in his arms. The way Chauncey stood in

front of his mirror saying, Hello, sir, welcome, welcome, welcome, as he tipped his bellhop cap.

The way Fee's wings sparkled in the sunlight,

of buttons and wyverns named Theodore. Of Zoe, her hair bouncing in the wind as she tore down

sandy roads in her car. And of Arthur, of course. Always, Arthur.

Of fire burning.

Of wings spread in orange and gold.

Of a quiet smile, the amused tilt of his head.

Oh, how he dreamed.

Every morning it was getting harder and harder to pull himself out of bed.

It was always raining.

The sky was always metal gray. He felt like paper, brittle and thin. He dressed. He rode the bus to work. He sat at his desk going through

one file after another. He ate wilted lettuce for lunch. He went back to work. He rode the bus home. He sat in his chair

listening to Bobby Darren singing about somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me.

He thought of the life he had, how he could have ever thought it'd be enough. His thoughts were all

Surulian. Every day he went to work, he took time to touch the

...