Stroke. "Michael!" Stroke. "Michael!"
The sky had darkened, and there was a new chill in the air. Her arms and shoulders ached. How long had she been paddling? It must have been hours. She could feel spray on her cheeks, or was that her tears? Something internal tugged her attention away from the external.
"Michael!" "Michael!" Though she had stopped rowing her internal mantra continued. Her need for Michael was the force behind her cause, the strength that allowed her to continue. She had no reason, no powers of deduction left with which to evaluate her position or make rational plans.
Just, "Michael!"
She looked around. She could not see or hear the whirlpool. The breeze teased a slight chop on the ocean surface behind, but in front of her, the sound of surf. She must be near shore. Of their own volition her arms regained the paddle and drove her little boat forward.
Pulling the boat what seemed a safe distance above the sand, into the rocky band between beach and forest, she dropped exhausted to the ground. The stony surface retained some of the day's warmth, and warmed her into an exhausted sleep.
The morning call of the gulls waked her at dawn. Though caked with sand and salt she felt refreshed, and ready to go again. Kelly shouldered her green bag, and marched on.
The sky had darkened, and there was a new chill in the air. Her arms and shoulders ached. How long had she been paddling? It must have been hours. She could feel spray on her cheeks, or was that her tears? Something internal tugged her attention away from the external.
"Michael!" "Michael!" Though she had stopped rowing her internal mantra continued. Her need for Michael was the force behind her cause, the strength that allowed her to continue. She had no reason, no powers of deduction left with which to evaluate her position or make rational plans.
Just, "Michael!"
She looked around. She could not see or hear the whirlpool. The breeze teased a slight chop on the ocean surface behind, but in front of her, the sound of surf. She must be near shore. Of their own volition her arms regained the paddle and drove her little boat forward.
Pulling the boat what seemed a safe distance above the sand, into the rocky band between beach and forest, she dropped exhausted to the ground. The stony surface retained some of the day's warmth, and warmed her into an exhausted sleep.
The morning call of the gulls waked her at dawn. Though caked with sand and salt she felt refreshed, and ready to go again. Kelly shouldered her green bag, and marched on.
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