Fortune cookies were a gimmick. End of story.
No lumberjack in his right mind would put any more stock in the fortunes than the lottery numbers printed on the backside. In fact, they were nothing more than a waste of paper, but I supposed that gave me job security.
Yet there I was, against all rational thought, staring at the little paper, questioning my sanity. Being forced to face my demons.
The next thing I knew, I’d written a message, stuffed it in a bottle, and tossed it out to sea. I was finally releasing the pain I’d carried for six years. A hundred giant steps from being ready to move on, but it was a start. A private gesture to send my agony away while knowing it wasn’t forgotten, even if only in the depths of the ocean.
Or so it was supposed to be. The very next day, a woman had my bottle open and she was reading my letter at the rocky outcropping where I’d tossed it in.
That’s when I learned that fortunes weren’t the most mysterious thing in the world and fate indeed worked in mysterious ways. Because if I believed my eyes, I was staring at a real live mermaid.
The even harder thing to fathom was how my heart could instantly feel ready to claim a being I didn’t even believe existed.