The surge is a thief that comes in the dark, a wall of saltwater that drowns the land before the winds even tell their full story. The winds break things you can rebuild; the surge takes lives you cannot get back. I argued with my father, saying our old house had seen many cyclones, and we stayed. That surge took the house, and him, in a silence the wind could never manage. Now I know the sea's true violence is not in its noise, but in its terrible, quiet rise.
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