Tropesick

Grumpy Sunshine

Henry Cooper was many things: a carpenter, a karate enthusiast, an amateur maker of jam. But he was also, at times, closed

off, far too serious, and a bit rude. Every night, when Willa would sit on the edge of the Inn’s dock, humming, sketching,

smiling as a thousand fireflies zipped through the sky, Henry would sit there, flipping through a massive anthology of very

important poems, his head down and his frown severe.

It was almost as though he couldn’t stand to be around something so bright. It was almost as though he didn’t know what to

do, what to say, or how to let the light in.