Castaways

We would go together, walking down to the shore. We never spoke much on those early morning walks. Words seemed unnecessary, an intrusion on the sounds of the island just being itself. It did not need a commentary, or even any comment, and to talk of other things seemed sacrilegious somehow.

We often stood at the water's edge, where the waves would trickle over our bare feet, staring out at the bare horizon. It seemed important somehow - that line - that edge to our world. We had lost the desire to go beyond it.

At first, when we saw a ship we made fevered attempts to attract their attention. I even went as far as building a signal fire up on the headland. But, it was never lit, and over time, it collapsed into a mere pile of wood.

We had fresh water, we had food and, most of all, we had each other. For the time being, that seemed to be enough.

One day we knew we would have to go back, return to the world, but we didn't want to, not yet.