I could still see the light from the island, we set everything to flame. The cover of fixed housing; meant only for the temporary but became our lives for nine months, were burning like everything else. The flames did not care for what was more important to us, as each piece of our time there vanished into floating black spider webs in the air. I could see the glistening layer of reminiscence in the crews' eyes as they looked to a flicker in the darkness; it was waving us goodbye. That's when John decided to flip the bird to the island that turned us into manly men. I was shocked for a moment, not expecting such an offense but then I saw his eyes, and they were as cold as the rest of us. I hated that goddamn place too, but I also loved it. Damnit, I could've stayed there for the rest of my days, but we were forced there, taken away from our lives, ripped away, maybe even stolen to sleep under the stars, to fear the unknown once more like young boys, and to survive or parish.
Tim pissed his pants, and I did expect that. I think he never wanted to leave, but since we were all leaving he'd rather be on a miracle-to-float-let-alone-survive-the-untamed-sea/suicide journey than to be alone. For a moment I tried pissing my pants too, but thirty-four years of conditioning myself to hold it in I couldn't let a drop go.
I showed up at an old girlfriend's house at night standing in the middle of her backyard and I waited there for hours until it rained. She never saw me, and she probably was sleeping the whole time, and I smile every time I think of sharks and jellyfishes biting off my legs as I sit at the edge of our rift. I'm still adrift.