I took the captain’s medallion back where it came from. I felt compelled to when I scooped it off the beach.
I fingered the wedding-knots disk as I searched its history and followed it to the captain’s house.
The young woman, last of his line, pointed to the shadowed figure on the widow’s walk. “They say it’s the young man he took to sea with him, still waiting for his captain to come home.”
I pitched the medallion up to the widow’s walk. My aim was true, and the metal weighty. It didn’t land. I kept the kiss to myself.
Author’s Note: I’m fascinated with sea-faring and artifacts. I thought of an unsettled ghost on a widow’s walk and followed where he led.