Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Clear Waters

Only three of us made it out of the plane before drowning, burning, or both.

Three was better than two, obviously, but I only spoke English, while the other guy only spoke French, and she spoke… Finnish? Icelandish? I couldn’t tell. And given that our ability to communicate rested mostly on gestures, she couldn’t tell me.

We must have drifted there for at least a week, until finally she sidled up to me and made a finger into a hole repeatedly gesture.

I was dumping his body overboard when she started crying, when I realise she didn’t mean ‘stab him’.

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