SALT.

Salt.

It’s all I can see,

Smell,

Feel,

Taste.

It clings to my body,

Every inch of my skin,

I am drowning.

We are miles from shore.

The waves loom—

Ten feet tall and building.

I cling to the remnants of our boat,

Now surrendered to the ocean’s icy grip.

Salt.

It burns in my lungs now.

The cold pull of a deep, unshakable calm gathers at the edges of my mind.

Am I here?

Or there?

My fingers slip,

And the salt is all around.

I claw for the surface,

But the light is fading.

Is this the end?


A single thought cuts through the darkness.

Not yet.

Ava Haag