The Woman Who Saw the Wake at Stillwater Bend

Luna sits on the deck of the North Atlantic trawler *Persephone* at two in the morning, a half-mile off the coast of a town called Stillwater Bend. She tells the story of a woman she met there six years ago—a woman named Della who lived in a house at the end of a gravel road that dead-ends at a marsh. Della had a husband who went out on a skiff and never came back. And then she started seeing a wake on the marsh at night. Not a boat. Not a fish. A wake with no source, moving against the wind, heading toward her porch. Luna was hired by Della's sister to check on her, and what she saw over three nights turned the marsh into a place she still can't look at without counting the seconds between ripples. This is a story about grief that refuses to sink, and the shape it makes when it surfaces.

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