The Goodbye
The ship reached the harbor at dawn.
Port Morning was small and quiet, its buildings bathed in amber light, its docks empty. The passengers disembarked, one by one, their feet touching solid ground for the first time in years.
Elara watched from the bow.
Her parents stood at the gangplank.
“Are you sure?” her father asked.
“I’m sure.”
“Promise me you’ll visit.”
Elara smiled.
It was a sad smile, small and tired and full of years.
“I’ll try.”
Her mother hugged her.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Mom.”
Her father hugged her.
“Be safe.”
“I will.”
They walked down the gangplank.
They stepped onto the dock.
They did not look back.
The first captain stood beside Elara.
“It’s just us now,” the old woman said.
“Just us.”
“Are you afraid?”
Elara was silent for a long moment.
“Terrified.”
“Good. Fear will keep you alive.”
The ship sailed away from the harbor.
Port Morning grew smaller and smaller, until it was just a speck on the horizon, until it disappeared entirely.
Elara stood at the bow, her hands on the railing, her eyes on the sea.
“What happens now?” she asked.
The first captain stood beside her.
“Now we sail. We watch. We wait.”
“For what?”
The first captain looked at the horizon.
“For the next lost soul. For the next passenger. For the next voyage.”
Elara was silent for a long moment.
“How long will it take?”
The first captain smiled.
It was a sad smile, small and tired and full of years.
“I don’t know. But we have time.”