The postmark preceded the letter by a day. Mara found the discrepancy while arranging her mother's correspondence from Vigil Bay. She briefly wondered whether the final letter had been dated later to hide when her mother decided to leave.
The envelope had been reused. Beneath the address label was an earlier destination, and the visible cancellation belonged to that journey. A second, faint mark on the flap matched the letter's date. Her mother had turned the envelope inside out to use it again, leaving the older stamp visible through a worn corner.
Inside the letter, she discussed money with a frankness absent from the family's later account. Reusing an envelope was part of the same shortage. Mara had been looking for a concealed departure when the paper instead documented an effort to make a small amount last.
She stored the envelope unfolded so both addresses could be seen. Its two journeys explained the apparent contradiction, but neither erased the difficult decision described inside. Her mother's last letter became less suspicious and more demanding: it asked to be read for what it actually said about the life she was trying to leave.