He talked about his classes. He doesn't know that I'd be in some of those classes if I hadn't gotten pulled under the waves. He talked about finishing the outside of the house, and how he was almost done.
But then he started saying things he never really said out loud before. I knew he felt guilty since he didn't save me, I could tell by the way he talked to me. He never really said anything, though.
He apologized. For not getting there sooner. For not getting me to the hospital in time. For not being able to help me now. For a lot of things.
But he didn't know that he was helping me. I wanted to tell him it was not his fault. That he didn't do anything to be sorry for.
But I couldn't talk.
And even if I could, how would I say it?
YOU ARE READING
60 Days of Salt and Sand
Short StoryBeing published September 10th! "She wasn't floating when I found her. She wasn't exactly sinking, either... Just still. Deadly still. At least, I thought she was dead. But then I felt a pulse. And that was enough to get me to fight for her.'
