Excerpt: Adrift

An iron kedge, shifting in the seabed, connected to a length of thick chain encased in plastic like a bike lock, connected to the tiny raft and secured by a central bolt that protruded through the center plank and was capped by a smooth, hammered piece of stainless steel. The steel cap was hot to the touch during the day. He thought about the possibility of catching a fish and cooking it on the metal cap. His eyes ached from dehydration, a pain that radiated into his jaw and neck. It the beginning of day three. The sea water was tempting but he knew better. His lips were blistered and a salty white film crusted on his arms and legs.

He sucked on a damp, unlit cigarillo. He sang a song he sang to his children at nights with the rectangles of moonlight shining on their still faces:

“Fais dodo, bébé, pour mama
Si bébé pas fais dodo
Gros chat est la que manger li”

He felt the jagged edge of a molar with the tip of his tongue, compulsively. A pillowy white cloud passed above; it looked like a crab’s claw.