You startle awake, scrambling to catch the oar just before it slips into the depths. Days in, and the swells still drop rocks in your belly. The slow-crash of water that calms her keeps you from ever resting.
She sits sleeping. Her movements slowing. Her stiff, sun beat face tipping back.
Shadow flickers over her, and you scan the horizon to find its source. As the swell flattens, the tanker’s flag peeks over. From the ship’s heading you can tell your boat hasn't been spotted. You think of calling out, but how could you wake her now when she looks so peaceful?