[A Short Story from My Heart] Where the Fog Lingers
Young Choi, Professor of Regent University
A pale, patient fog lay low over Monterey Bay, drifting in as though it had business with the sea and meant to stay until it was done. The water moved with a slow, breathing hush, neither asleep nor awake, and a small skiff slipped across it like a thought too tired to become a word. The old timbers creaked softly, as if remembering other mornings, other men, other hungers.
Tom sat hunched near the stern, his hands thick and scarred, the salt worked deep into the cracks of his skin. They were hands that had known for long days and poor hauls, hands that did not expect kindness from the world. He said nothing. His silence lay heavy, like something earned.
“Reckon we’ll have luck today?”
The boy, Eddie, spoke carefully, as though the question itself might break if handled too roughly. He was not yet shaped by the sea; its smell still sat new on him.
Tom did not look up.
“The sea don’t give ‘cause you ask. It gives when it’s got a mind to.”
It was not advice. It was nearer to law.
They cast the net. The water took it without complaint, closed over it, and offered nothing in return but a faint ripple, as indifferent as time.
The hours stretched thinly. The sun pushed its way through the fog, slow and stubborn, laying a pale gold across the water. It warmed their backs but not their fortune. The net, when they tested its weight, spoke only of emptiness.
The boy grew quiet.
“Why’s there nothing?” he asked at last, his voice small and worn, as if it had traveled a long distance to be heard.
Tom stopped then. He lifted his head and looked out across the wide, patient sea. For a moment, he seemed to measure something that could not be seen.
“Has to be days like this,” he said, slow and plain. “Else a man wouldn’t know what it is he’s waitin’ for.”
They hauled the net in. It came up light, dripping, the drops catching the morning light before falling back into the water—small, bright things gone too quick to count.
The boy lowered his gaze.
But Tom—Tom let out the faintest breath of a smile.
He turned the skiff toward the harbor. Behind them, the sea stretched wide and untroubled, holding its silence close. There was nothing there—nothing a man could take in his hands.
And yet, in that nothing, there was the shape of tomorrow. +++
April 22, 2026
At Sungsunjae (崇善齋)
{Solti}
한국어 번역: 안개가 머무는 자리
https://www.ktown1st.com/blog/VALover/349124
Young Choi, PhD is a Professor at Regent University bringing a rare combination of technical expertise and creative spirit to everything he does. A scholar in AI, cybersecurity, network and telecommunications service management, he has published 37 books including AI and cybersecurity area books, over 200 refereed articles, over 20 book chapters. Beyond the academy, Dr. Choi is a passionate poet, essayist, and wooden block engraving artist whose reflective writing invites readers to rediscover life’s beauty in quiet contemplation. He lives under the motto: “Study hard and give generously without holding back! (열심히 공부해서 아낌없이 남주자 !)”
Published books: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Young-Choi/author/B0DMZ5S6R7?ref=ap_rdr&shoppingPortalEnabled=true