REWARD
Pull back, push down, you row. Glints spatter in the moonlight as the blades of your oars attack the water. The abandoned pier, a black finger, recedes in the distance. You turn your head. The island waits. Sweat drips from the end of your nose. Sweat runs a trickle down your spine. Pull, pull, you crash the shoreline bushes. You lean forward, gasping, at rest, rowing no more. The gun. You remember the gun. You grab it, fling it far. Splash. You lift the oars from the oarlocks and place them one next to the other in repose. You are out of the boat smoothly with a purpose. You give the prow a mighty shove and watch the simple vessel’s serene withdrawal. You are out of the bushes and hurrying to the stand of trees, your destination. Oh, hope. Oh, reward. You grin and throw your arms wide. There she is!
You die.
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