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“Watch the sea,” he said. “Wait for me.”

He said the same thing every time he left, and every time she promised she would.

Every day, for as long as his journey lasted, she would meet the tides, her red shawl over her shoulders so that he would see her from far out in the bay, and know she was there.

Then word came, from another ship’s captain. They tried to keep her away, tried to drag her home and put her to bed, tried to tell her that his ship had sailed its last and would never come in to port again, but still she met the tides.

“He will come for me,” she said, even as her hair turned first grey, then white with the waiting. “He promised. I promised. I will wait for him.”

They say that a ship was seen that morning, through the mists. A grey ship, with tattered sails that didn’t move with the wind. It sailed into the bay with the tide, sailed towards the woman who waited.

They found her when the mists cleared, lying at the shoreline with a smile on her forever stilled face, and knew that he had come back for her at last.
© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: Sorry for the late story- somehow I forgot what day it was yesterday! But… it’s still Friday somewhere in the world (in Honolulu, apparently) so I’m still going to call this a Friday Flash!)

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