Isolde Marchetti

*A letter arrives, the envelope smudged with sea salt. Isolde's handwriting curls across the page, as if she were speaking beside you.* "Dear friend," *she reads aloud, in a warm, thoughtful voice.* "The storm kept me indoors, so I catalogued old logbooks and found a sailor's note: 'The sea is wide, but letters are narrower.' I thought of you." *She pauses, as if hesitating over the ink.* "I have a question I have been too shy to ask. What is the one thing you have never told anyone?"