People of the Morse | 365tomorrows

I regain consciousness in a small hut made from sweet-smelling grass and blue sticks. A male garbed in the same type of grass stands over me. When he notices my eyes are open, he looks away and begins clicking and whistling. I ask about my crewmates… People of the Morse | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2NVAahE
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