His wrinkled fingers shook as he rubbed the sticks together. It used to be so easy, but the years have caught up with him. The arthritis, the wind, and the desperation to get home worked against him as he struggled to get a spark from the dry driftwood.
He had been setting signal fires every day since he was shipwrecked, and today, of all days, he wasn’t able to light the damn thing.
Tears fell as he stared out across the bay and watched in dispair as his last hope of survival sailed off into the horizon.
This tale of loneliness in paradise is brought to you by the fine folks at Friday Fictioneers. Be sure to click the link below for more stories.