Wednesday, December 2, 2015

100 Words a Day 737

The soothing sound of the lapping ocean woke him. His foot was dangling in the water. He blinked. The sun was in his eyes. The shirt over his face must have fallen off. His groping hand was unable to find it. It must have fallen into the water. He sat up and licked his lips. They were heavily chapped.

The ocean extended as far as he could see. His shirt was wet from where the water had lapped onto it as his crude raft rocked gently. His bottle of water ran out yesterday. It was only a matter of time.

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