Sofia and the Ocean Postcards

Every evening, the beach library beside a wooden pier smelled of salt, old paper and warm lanterns. Sofia was seven, and helping to close it was her favorite job.

Tico the red squirrel always helped too. He lived in the pine tree out back and wore a little neckerchief that was never quite straight.

That night, Tico found a round tin on the steps, left there by the tide. “Oh! Oh! It rattles!” he chattered. Inside were five damp postcards.

At the reading table, Sofia lifted one into the lantern light. It shimmered with tiny specks of sea sparkle, and on the front were a little island and a compass rose.

Librarian Mar smiled from the counter. “The sea does not usually deliver the mail,” she said. “Turn it over.” The address had melted into a soft blue cloud, but the message, written in pencil, was still clear.