Letters to the Tide

T he first letter arrived on a morning thick with fog. It was dated a month ahead, and it was addressed to a woman who had not yet left.

S he wrote back anyway, pressing the ink hard into the page. The sea took the letter, and a week later, one returned, dated the day before she had written it.

T hey wrote across the months, out of order, until the letters became a conversation neither of them remembered starting but both refused to end.