"What's left of him?" I ask.
Carol holds up a crushed pack of cigarettes. "This is it."
I frown and reach out to grab it from him. I hold it in my hand. You don't smoke, but I can feel your energy on this pack. It makes me feel sick and I toss it to the ground. "We have to find him," I say.
Carol stands up and then he dies. Like everyone who dies in the Sandsea he just sort of fades away. I wonder if you faded.
We call the stuff Ambergris, like the whale puke, because the guy we get it from is named Whale and he has this way of storing the drug where he keeps it in little baggies in his gut and then pukes them up when we buy. Whale's a really fun guy.
I look out to the Sandsea. It looks black, but is actually gray when you hold it in your hands. I pop one of the pills of Ambergris, wait a few seconds, and then step off the concrete and onto the sea. Even with the drug, the sand kind of tugs at my feet. It almost feels like a sea of jell-O. I run. You've gotta be quick or else it will get you. The Sandsea wants to make you think that it's comfortable. It's not. Under the sand - about fifteen feet - there are teeth. I remember you and me fucking in your bedroom before the Sandsea swallowed everything. It feels so good to remember.
I'll find you. Let this be a reminder that I'm still looking for you. Even if you're under the Sea, I will find you.
5 March 2013