Hey, it's me. I'm on the ferry. I wanted to tell you something before I forget.
I swapped my Friday overtime shift for a Tuesday night instead. It cost me the extra pay—money I should be saving—but I couldn't pass it up.
I used that half-punched coffee loyalty card I've been carrying for weeks. The barista smiled and said I was almost there.
It was a February weeknight, cold and wet, but the reading room at the mainland bookstore was warm. They had a poet I'd wanted to see for years.
We sat in the back, my fiancé and I, holding hands like teenagers. The poems were about ordinary things—loss, bread, a dog sleeping by the fire.
On the ferry back, the water was black and smooth. I thought about the money I didn't make tonight, and then I thought about his hand in mine.
I think you would have liked that night. I'm glad I chose it over the hours. That's all. No need to call back. I just wanted you to know.