Lets Post It - 2021

She had posted it thinking she was asking for something—comfort, attention, a reason to feel real. But the message made her realize she had been giving something instead. She had held up a small lantern in a dark room, and someone else had whispered back, I see your light. Here is mine.

Lena stared at the message. Her eyes stung.

And then, a direct message. From a woman she’d met once at a writing workshop three years ago. The message said: lets post it

The cursor blinked on the blank white square like a small, patient heart. Lena’s finger hovered over the trackpad, her other hand wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago. The screen was a confessional. The "Post" button was the priest.

Vanity? No. If it were vanity, she would have posted the smiling photo from the beach last summer, the one where the light made her look like she’d never known a sad day. She had posted it thinking she was asking

Lena’s thumb drifted to the trackpad. Click.

Why did she want to post it?

Inside: a ticket stub, a dried flower, a letter she’d written to herself at nineteen, and a smooth gray stone from a beach where she’d once been happy. She picked up the stone. It was warm from being closed in the dark for so long.