“What’s the name of the ship, Em?” Sophie asks me for the billionth time, her dark eyes darting from one end of the marina to the other as we make our way among the deckhands. “The Griffin. Honestly Soph, you need to relax a little. I’ve got all the information right here. We shouldn’t be able to miss it,” I reassure her, though I’m a little nervous myself. Which is far from usual for me. We both slept through our alarms, resulting in a lot of cuss words and thrown clothes. “

I know I haven’t posted in FOREVER. Life has been crazy and I’ve been engrossed in the short story I’ve been writing for Coffee House...