The square exploded with the joyous chaos of liberation.
Shouts and laughter crashed into weeping cheers. Mika's father swept her into a wild spin, her giggles lost in the roar. An old woman, her face cracked with joy, flung her fishing net skyward where it hung for a moment like a bizarre constellation before falling back into the celebrating mob.
He was still catching his breath when the town swarmed him. Hands clapped his shoulders, jarring his aching ribs. Someone shoved a bottle into his hands, and he drank without thinking.
The cheap spirit scorched his throat, but the burn was a welcome relief. It was better than the phantom taste lingering on his tongue—the ghost of Hardy's essence.
Children ran between legs, waving makeshift flags made from colorful scraps. A group of fishermen hoisted each other onto their shoulders, forming a human tower that swayed dangerously.
