The island had one spot of sand. Waves picked up by wind out in the sea would either lap against it or crash on the jagged rocks. Their spray and salt would whip up into the air, covering the entire island, barely three hundred meters long and ten meters above. The concave shore and spit of land gave the island no discernible shape, and unless you were pushed against it, no ship would notice it. A lump lost among even little waves, barren of life. Only cracked rock with the occasional lost sea creature, trying to make its way back to the water along the white line paths.
My clothes and beard had long been coated in the salt. The t-shirt that protected me from the sun had faded from its red to a shallow pink, stiff with the white remains of the sea. My hair stuck out all over the place in a shapeless mass twisted with my beard. The rusted lawn chair creaked as I moved in my sleep, trying to get through the hottest part of the day. It beat down on me, turning my skin brown and making it peel.
Somewhere out on the water, the wind picked up and pushed a wave forwards, making it tower past the shallows and crash down on the sand, pushing it towards the island before taking it away. I woke up to the sound, and felt the water lapping my toes. My heart raced, but I didn't move. In the distance, there was a dot above the waves, slowly making its way towards me.
