Drifting

Dawn. Another day at sea. He’s lost count how many days it’s been. Fifteen? Sixteen? Not much water left now.

He lies on his back in the lifeboat, listening to the rhythm of the boat: the splash of the waves, the idle flapping of the hastily rigged sail, the ropes on the mast.

The sun climbs higher.

His vacant eyes stare up at the harsh blue sky, the angry white of the sun burning his pupils unnoticed. An albatross hangs in the air in the distance, turns towards him, circles his boat.

The hours pass, and the albatross is gone. Just him, the sun, and the rhythm of the boat.

[audio:http://test.pbc.wa.edu.au/music/Drifting.mp3]