The Letter She Never Sent
Elara found the letter in her coat pocket.
It was old — yellowed, creased, the edges soft from handling. She had written it years ago, on her first voyage, when she still believed she might go home.
She unfolded it.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m on the ship. The Morning Star. I’m safe. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Maybe soon. Maybe not.
I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.
— Elara
She had never sent it.
There was no one to send it to.
She read it three times.
Then she folded it.
She tucked it back into her coat.
She walked to the railing.
The sea was blue. The sky was bright. The horizon was wide.
The first captain stood beside her.
“Are you okay?” the old woman asked.
Elara was silent for a long moment.
“I’m getting there.”