Henry looked nervously at the tall oak tree in the garden, the storm swirling around its branches pulling it this way and that. He wished he could bring it in, offer up a cup of tea and shelter from the savage weather.
Henry closed the curtains, climbed into bed and listened as the rain lashed at the windows and wind howled through cracks in the doors, begging to be let in.
When he awoke, somewhat cold, the noise of the storm had vanished; instead the sound of the ocean calmly washed over him, and sea salt smells filled his nostrils.
Submitted for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. See if you can write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words.
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