Every Evening My Neighbor’s Boy Tapped Out SOS in Morse Code — Then One Night the Message Terrified Me

My name is Harold. I’m a former Marine, though these days the only battles I fight are with stiff knees, changing weather, and the slow creak of an old house settling at night. The uniforms are long gone, folded into a cedar chest in the hallway closet. The medals are tucked away too, not out of shame, but because I’ve never liked polishing the past. At seventy-three, life had settled into something quiet and predictable. Mornings meant coffee on the…
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