In that moment, a sense of unity formed, as if the lighthouse itself were a metaphor for our own lives: each of us a beacon, each of us searching for direction, each of us guiding the others.

“Do you ever feel like you’re writing the ending before you’ve even started?” she asked, as if she’d been waiting for me to ask exactly that. I laughed, a little embarrassed, but something about the way she said it felt like a challenge.

Laney raised an eyebrow, the kind that said, “You don’t just waltz in here and ask for a map.” Still, she nodded. “Alright. What’s the destination?”

Grey tipped her coffee cup toward me. “And about the mysteries we choose to chase.”

MrLucky, 20 June 2012

Laney looked up, her eyes still that stormy blue, and said, “Maybe the story isn’t about the ending after all. Maybe it’s about the people we meet on the way.”