A few hours before the rain began to fall, the bottle was dropped overboard on a warm summer evening. Like all bottles, it was fragile and would break if dropped a few feet from the ground. But when sealed properly and sent to sea, as this one was, it became one of the most seaworthy objects known to man. It could float safely through hurricanes and storms, it could bob atop the most dangerous of riptides. It was, in a way, the ideal home for the message it carried inside, a message that been sent to fulfill a promise.

A chilly wind was blowing, and Rory Gilmore crossed her arms to stare at the water before her. She found herself alone on the beach, and took in her surroundings. The ocean, which was reflecting the color of the sky, looked like liquid iron, and waves rolled up steadily on the shore. Overpowering clouds were descending slowly, and the thick fog made the horizon almost invisible. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath—almost tasting the salty water. She was dumbfounded about the majestic beauty around her.

Paris had made a very generous offer by asking Rory to come along. “Jess will be out in his photography class, or will be writing, and I'd like the company,” she'd said, “and besides, what else are you going to do? You need to get out of the apartment sometime, Rory.” Rory knew that Paris was right and after thinking it over she agreed. “Ha! I knew you were going to come. Jess and I made a bet. Guess who won? Anyhow, you are going to love it there,” Paris had announced with a victorious smile on her face.

Rory started, chuckling lightly at the scene. However, she was glad that Paris made her come along. She was enjoying her vacation already. She had to admit that they were staying at a really nice place. The Fisher House had been beautifully restored; it was a captain’s house and it sat perched on a rocky cliff overlooking Cape Cod Bay. It was a nice change from home and work. She closed her eyes again and recollected her thoughts, remembering everything from the beginning.

Once Stars Hollow was really the only place that she could call home—the familiar gossip, the trinket stores, the lively people, and Luke's heavenly coffee. She knew everything so well there. She was so used to the quirky town filled with warm friendly people whom she loved. At that time all she had known was that town.

Of course, she had made the occasional visits to big cities like New York and Boston, but those were nothing compared to college life. She remembered the day the letter came from Harvard. Grabbing the precious envelope in her hands, she furiously ran to Luke’s where her mom was. She got in there panting and squealing with delight. In a short matter of time, Lorelai had gathered practically the whole town in Luke’s. Rory’s hands were trembling as she tore open the glossed envelope; everyone holding their breath in anticipation. To all their surprise and disappointment Rory didn't get into Harvard. Rory was devastated, and it took her quite a while to get over it.

Days later another letter came, and delivered the wonderful news that Rory had been accepted into Yale. Being a Yale-man himself Richard couldn't be any prouder of Rory. In fact, Emily was so delighted that a huge celebration was thrown. Rory was fitted into an itchy dress and was led around by Emily, meeting the aristocrats of the Harvard society. Finally breaking free and in need of some air, Rory made a quick escape to the balcony, and was surprised to see one solitary figure already standing there.

Paris Gellar.

She was slouching, her bent head in her hands. Her burnished dirty blonde hair was pulled up in an elegant knot, but if only her face looked half as elegant. Her eyes were dark. Hollow. Empty even. Tears mixed with mascara streaked her dead white, sullen face. Her jaw was clenched tightly as she stared off into oblivion.

Immediately Rory turned on her heel to leave; she didn't even want to look at Paris, even if she was in a hideously unbecoming state. She still couldn't forgive Paris for what she had done to her in senior year. But froze when she heard a whimper escape the girl’s lips. Silently cursing herself for being too nice she made a sharp turn. Rory’s eyes became softer as she made her way towards the crying girl. She did the best to soothe her, and when she asked the reason for her outburst, Paris silently mumbled about no getting into Harvard. Rory dropped the subject right then, not wanting to start another batch of tears. Their small talk was quickly built into a meaningful conversation. They shared their apologizes and quickly forgot the dreadful Chilton years. And soon it was time to leave and that night was forgotten as well.

Finally, the big day had arrived. It was time for Rory to leave for college. The whole town was clustered in the Gilmore's backyard waiting for Rory to come out. Oh yes, another party was thrown, but this one was more intimate and loving. Opening the front door, Rory was greeted with an echo of surprises. Her large blue eyes lit up instantly, as she squealed with delight. Her eyes traveled across the waves of familiar faces, and her grin grew wider. She felt her heart swelling with love and warmth. When it was time to get going she shed her tears along with everyone else.

Freshmen year had been the hardest on Rory. As soon as she stepped onto the campus, she knew things were going to be much different. She was new to it all. It was as if she was living in a whole new world. The different streets, the different people, and the different atmosphere. She had made a couple of friends, but that wasn't enough.

Then one day, carrying a tower of books, she so far had managed not to run into anyone. She let her guard down for a second and instantly slammed into a slim form. They both collided, falling down and the books were flying everywhere. At first Rory didn't recognize the smiling girl with a new do, consisting of choppy blonde hair—until she started yelling at Rory in a very familiar way. Rory’s heart filled with delight to see the familiar face, and scrambled over to the girl pulling her into a huge hug. Paris gladly hugged Rory back. They sat there, in the middle of the hallway for the rest hour catching up, and not even bothering to pick up the books.

Paris was no longer the uptight, scowling girl. Nor was she the devastated girl that Rory had seen on the balcony. Instead, she had become much more carefree and smiled more often. And the occasional visits that Lorelai made definitely loosened Paris up. She began to enjoy life much more, and started acting her age.

While in Yale, the girls had formed a unique bond of bantering, intellect, and loads of coffee. They had shared joy, laughter, tears, and were always there for each other.

In the middle of junior year Rory had many friends, but she caught the attention of one particular person. Seth Sgambati. Oh yes, Seth was indeed a fine Italian specimen. He was strongly built and reached just over six feet. With chocolate brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and a mischievous smile playing across his face, he won Rory Gilmore’s heart. They started off slowly, holding hands, watching movies, a few sweet kisses. Rory liked him, and thought he was the one. They dated for over 10 months, until they made a mutual decision to break-up. They still kept in touch, but nothing would ever be like it was before. She often missed what they had, but knew they had done the right thing.

Suddenly his voice started ringing in her head, “Goodbye, Lorelai Gilmore.” That was the last thing he said to her. She had to admit that she still missed Seth, but she was yearning for him even more these days. Smiling wistfully, she came to halt, putting her hands on her legs and hanging her head, she tried to catch her breath.

As her breathing eased, she looked around and saw a man standing in the water. He was wearing faded, rolled up jeans and his face was deeply tanned. He had his eyes closed and was standing barefoot in the water enjoying it. She was intrigued by his actions and suddenly wanted to try it for herself. She slipped out of her shoes, peeling her socks off. Placing them down gently on the sand, she ran freely towards the water. She stepped out a little farther into the water and mimicked the man, hoping to feel whatever he was feeling. But when she closed her eyes her mind immediately drifted off somewhere else.

After both girls graduated from Yale, they thought they would be going their own separate ways, but were shortly brought back together. Rory had a job interview at the Boston Times, and for the first time was running late. Her alarm hadn't didn't ring that morning, and she had woken up with a sudden jolt, when her cat, Cleo, pounced on her. Scrambling around to find her black pumps she banged her head on the coffee table, which left a memorable bruise. After five more minutes of searching, they were no where in sight and she did the only thing she could, which was slipping into her tennis shoes. She finally arrived with her disheveled look and was immediately ushered into a room. A petite woman, with a warm smile on her face was looking outside the window when Rory silently slipped in. The woman studied Rory and upon reaching her shoes, she burst out laughing. Immediately Rory was alleviated that the woman wasn't an evil demon, as she had imagined. It turned out that Rory got the job.

A few days later, Rory was introduced to the person who she would share some of her columns with. She went into the room and found Paris Gellar clad in all black with sparkling dark eyes, spinning in a revolving chair. Instantly both girls began squealing and laughing joyfully. Extremely happy to be working together, the girls’ column became a great success.

She opened her eyes, and looked to see if the man was still there, but he had left. Her feet had stiffened by the cold water and she decided not to put her socks and shoes on. Picking them up, she started her walk back. Excited about all the things she would do this weekend, she smiled at the thought of having time for herself. She would read some books, put her feet up, and have a cup of coffee. Get in touch with some friends that she hadn't heard from in a while. Sleep late, pig out, and jog in the mornings enjoying the beauty.

She also wanted to shop this week. Not those large department stores, but little trinket stores. She wanted to try on a few cute outfits and buy a couple that flattered her. She had often been told by Paris, who used to be the Queen of Coverage, herself, to show some skin. She might even get her hair done—try something new. And if she happened to be asked out by some nice guy, maybe she'd go, just to have an excuse to wear the new things she had bought.

Walking to the water's edge, she saw a large rock buried in the sand. As she drew nearer, she realized it wasn't a rock at all; t was a bottle. Probably discarded by a tourist or some teens, who came here in the night. Looking over her shoulder she saw a garbage can chained to the lifeguard she decided to do her good deed for the day. Picking up the bottle, she was surprised to find it corked with a note inside wrapped with yarn, standing on its end.

Her heart quickened as another memory came back to her. She had been about eight years old and was vacationing with her Mom in Florida. While building a sandcastle, she found a bottle with a message in it. It was a map that had an X mark to show where the treasure was. She remembering going in circles searching the whole day, but finding nothing in the end. She was so mad, and vented her anger by writing long letter telling the person who sent it not to play mean tricks like that. After returning from her vacation, she remembered running up to the mailbox to see it anyone had responded her. And the memory stopped right there; nothing else came no matter how hard she tried.

She began pulling on the cork; it was wedged in tightly, and she was glad that her slim fingers could easily grasp it. She starting twisting it, and even switched hands, but it didn't even budge. Frustrated at her feeble attempts, she put the bottle between her legs for more leverage, and tightened her grip on the cork. Pulling with all of her might, she felt the cork move. She began twisting slowly yet firmly, and the cork fell out. She got excited all of a sudden and fumbled to get the note out, and was surprised to see it come out with such ease.

If it were a child writing to her she would reply, and maybe even send a postcard or a little gift. But as she carefully untied the yarn, she knew it wasn't a child’s stationary at all. It was expensive paper, thick and sturdy, with a silhouette of a sailing ship embossed on the upper right hand corner. The paper itself was crinkled—ancient looking. But as she scrutinized the writing, she knew she was wrong for it dated July 22, 2007. That meant it was sent a little more than three weeks ago. Only three? weeks?

Looking a little further, she saw that it was a long message. Taking a quick glance, she saw no address or phone number, and supposed it might be in the message itself.

She felt a twinge of curiosity she held the message in front of her, and it was then in the rising sunlight, that she first read the letter that changed her life forever…