She clung on to the piece of driftwood, praying for daylight. Yet, she was unsure whether that would make any difference whatsoever. How many days had passed already? One, two, a week? Perhaps a month, or even a year. No, if it had been a month, she would be dead by now, and she was definitely not. She could still think, still feel. She had even been able to swim from her sinking rubber boat towards the pieces still afloat around her. At the very beginning, she thought it unlikely that any rescue team would spot her there, in the midst of this damp nowhere. Unlikely but still somehow possible. She had a little food, a little fresh water. Of course it was both unlikely and impossible. They had set off in the middle of the night, having notified no one. With no maps and no itinerary. Nobody came to the rescue.
For long periods of light and even longer ones of utter darkness she prayed, something she had never done before, as she felt her body weakening fast. Then, night came once again, an even deeper one, when her mind was no longer capable of telling truth from falsehood. Suddenly, she realized she had stopped breathing altogether and yet, it was easier for her limbs to shake and her head to turn. She was far lighter, far more flexible; she could have flown away had she tried to. That was exactly the moment when a tiny wave hit the side of her boat, water splashed all over her left arm, cool and soothing. Her body slid softly towards the sea and on to the driftwood. She was already gone.