Chapter 2

A wave caught the corner of the tiny fragment of wood and caused it to tip precariously towards the water. The man’s fear took over and he edged back towards the middle of his raft. Afraid that his movements would capsize his safety, he curled up in the middle of the piece of wood and stared at the empty cloudless sky above him.

He would die here, of that much he was certain. The day, the time, those things didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the certainty of it. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. His tears had evaporated long ago, along with his hope, but deep inside he wished for more tears. He wished to cry, if only to feel something. Anything. But misery had long ago given way to despair, and eventually, even despair had fled, leaving him with nothing. Now he was just empty and hollow, and waiting for the end of his days.

He drew a deep breath of the thick, hot air and exhaled quietly. He closed his eyes to the sun and tried to search his memory. He tried to remember his past. Surely there were days before this raft and this sun! He rolled onto his stomach, his face pressed against the damp, rotting wood he floated on. A distant memory flickered in his mind. Perhaps there was a time, when his body didn’t ache, when he didn’t wake up every morning on a slab of wood, but on something soft, exquisite…beautiful. But what? When? A flash of green in his mind and the smell of something sweet in his nostrils caused his eyes to open with a start. But as quickly as the flame of the memory entered his mind, it was extinguished. He rolled on to his back and stared again into the scorching sun, convinced the memory had never been there at all.

There was no other bed, no other smells besides this salty hot air and this rotting wood. There was nothing sweet, or green, or beautiful. There was only this raft, this sun...this nothing.