This story is dedicated to those who died on the Titanic, as well as the survivors, who are now all gone, and to the memory of the ship, as she used to be, beautiful, glorious, and a "modern" marvel to behold.
She wrote down all she could think of to write. She folded the papers and rolled them up and stuffed them into the bottle, then putting the cork in. She pushed it in until she couldn’t anymore, and the cork was good and stuck.
She looked back at her husband, his lifeless eyes seeming to stare at her from the floor. Her heart was broken, shattered was more like it, but he had given her no choice, and she had done what she had to do, what she ended...
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