**The Paper Boat**
Lily sat by the edge of the river, the scent of damp earth mingling with the crisp autumn air. The
world around her was quiet, save for the soft rush of water and the occasional rustle of leaves. She
held a small, folded paper boat in her hands, the edges carefully creased.
It was the same boat she had made years ago—before everything had changed. Back when her
brother, Sam, was still alive, and the world felt simpler. He had taught her how to fold the paper just
right, how to make a boat that would float on the river’s gentle current. They would race them
together, laughing as their boats drifted side by side.
But Sam was gone now, taken by an accident no one had seen coming. The house had never felt the
same since. The laughter had faded, and Lily’s heart had grown heavy, each day a reminder that
something precious had been lost.
Today, though, she decided to do something different. She placed the paper boat on the water’s
surface and watched it catch the current. For a moment, she thought she saw Sam’s smile in the
ripples, his voice echoing in her memory.
"Let it go," she whispered to herself. "It’s okay to let it go."
The boat sailed farther down the river, carried away by the flow of time. Lily sat still, feeling the
weight in her chest lighten just a little, as if the boat had taken with it some of her sorrow.
Sometimes, letting go wasn’t about forgetting—it was about finding peace.