Letters to Fergus

March 10, 2025 (I don’t know the time. But it’s already dark, too cloudy to find the moon.)

Dear Fergus,

I am trying not to panic.

I had just boarded the ship when I realized I left my phone in my brother’s car. He dropped me off before I entered, and by now, he’s probably halfway home. There’s no way to contact him. Why is it so hard to memorize just a few numbers? If I had, I could at least borrow someone’s phone and call him.

But no.

Now, I have to spend three nights and three days on this ship without my phone. No calls, no messages, no connection to my family. The thought is unbearable. I feel so, so alone. And now, I just want to cry.

I will cry—silently, for now.

Until my next almost-panicking moment,

Ana

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March 10, 2025 (Sometime very late at night, I’m sure.)

Dear Fergus,

I used to scroll through YouTube Shorts until I got sleepy.

But now, it’s past my bedtime, and I just can’t sleep—not without my phone, and not with this overwhelming loneliness.

Guess I’ll have to play movies in my imagination instead. I hope it works.

Wishing to be sleepy,

Ana

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March 11, 2025 (Probably late morning.)

Dear Fergus,

Surprisingly, imagining movies in my head actually worked.

I don’t know exactly how long it took me to fall asleep. Without my phone, I have no way to check the time. There’s no clock around, and I’d rather not ask another passenger. They all seem too busy narrating their life stories to strangers.

Time to find breakfast. Not expecting anything great, but I’m sure it’ll be expensive.

Missing my phone,

Ana

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March 11, 2025 (Afternoon, since people are done eating lunch.)

Dear Fergus,

I’m so BORED. The food is boring, as expected. My imagination was fun until it wasn’t.

To anyone looking at me right now, I probably seem like some intellectual lady, sitting here, writing in a notebook instead of staring at a phone screen.

If only they knew my story.

Super bored,

Ana

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March 11, 2025 (9:35 PM)

Dear Fergus,

HAHAHAHAHA! You won’t believe this—I actually talked to another person.

I met a woman named Emily, who’s occupying the deck closest to mine. We started talking, and I just realized how fun it is to listen to other people’s stories.

And guess what? She let me use her Messenger account to contact my parents! Now, they know I left my phone, and my brother will send my phone to my destination. No more worrying.

I guess I can sleep peacefully tonight, with the help of my imagination.

Also, fun fact: I finally know the time now—because I can just ask Emily.

Still missing my phone,

Ana

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March 12, 2025 (6:42 AM)

Dear Fergus,

I woke up to the sound of people gossiping. Gossip! At this hour! Then again, there’s probably nothing more entertaining on this ship than talking about strangers.

Emily was already awake, sipping instant coffee from a disposable cup. It smelled good, but I’m not a coffee person.

I asked her where we were. She laughed and said, “On a ship.”

I think I like Emily.

Hoping to enjoy the day,

Ana

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March 12, 2025 (2:14 PM)

Dear Fergus,

Something weird happened.

I was minding my own business, staring at the ocean, when a little kid ran past me and tripped. I helped him up, and before I could even ask if he was okay, he whispered, “Don’t trust the man with the blue hat.”

What?

I looked around. There were plenty of men, but none wearing a blue hat. By the time I turned back to the kid, he was already running off.

Now I’m stuck here, wondering if I should laugh it off or be concerned.

Slightly paranoid,

Ana

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March 12, 2025 (9:01 PM)

Dear Fergus,

Okay. So. Guess who I saw?

A man. With. A. Blue. Hat.

I wasn’t even looking for him! He was just there, casually leaning against the railing, staring at the water. I tried to ignore him, but the kid’s words are stuck in my head.

Who is he? What’s so bad about him? Or worse—what if he’s completely normal and I’m just overthinking? (Which, let’s be honest, is very possible.)

I don’t know. Maybe I should just sleep.

Imagining a crime documentary,

Ana

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March 13, 2025 (7:55 AM)

Dear Fergus,

Well. I’m still alive. That’s a relief.

I saw the man again this morning, and guess what? He was fishing. Fishing on a fast-moving ship.

That’s weird, right? Is it even possible to catch fish like that? Can fish swim fast enough to keep up with the ship? I don’t know anything about fish or fishing.

I talked to Emily about it, and she laughed at me again. Turns out, neither of us knows anything about fish.

Anyway, last night was my final night on this ship. The thought makes me oddly sentimental. As much as I miss my phone, I feel like I’ve lived more these past few days.

Starting to appreciate people more,

Ana

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March 13, 2025 (2:20 PM)

Dear Fergus,

Finally—just a few hours left, and we’ll arrive.

I remember my first night here, blaming myself for forgetting my phone. But now, looking back, I think this might have been the best trip I’ve had in a long time.

Funny how life teaches us things in the most unexpected ways.

I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I actually thank the Planner of my life for letting me forget my phone. Because of it, I made a new friend, Emily, who I’ll be keeping in touch with once I have my phone back. I learned to appreciate the ocean, the sky, and the breeze. And most importantly, I spent time alone with my thoughts.

Being alone with my thoughts isn’t as scary as people make it sound.

Maybe I’ll write to you one last time before I leave the ship. Maybe not.

Either way, thank you for keeping me company.

Almost at the shore,

Ana