The dark fjord that swallowed the stars

Dear Delyara, The rain has been falling over the harbor for seventeen straight days, turning the wood on the old wharves black and slippery. I signed on as third mate on the container vessel because I thought the rough sea would burn out the terrible, aimless hollowness that took over my life after my engagement broke apart. But the sea doesn't care about your soul; it’s just miles and miles of cold water and iron bulkheads. We docked four hours ago, and while the rest of the crew ran off to the taverns, I stayed in my bunk staring at the grey steel rivets above my head. I have no home to return to, no destination that excites me, and no idea why I get up when the alarm goes off. I’m just cargo moving from one dark port to another.