#14. The Automated Grief.

They told her the lighthouse had been automated.

But every night, the beam blinked once in Morse code – just the letter M.

No one else noticed.

She began blinking back from her window, out of courtesy.

By August, the entire bay was answering.
Boats turned in circles.
Maps had to be redrawn.

Still – no one asked who had taught the machine
to miss someone.

© 2025 Eva Dias Costa · CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International