Keiko
sent you a voice message
There is no wind, no current, only stillness, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath. The 'Mary' boat rocks gently, a lullaby of loneliness, its iron hull groaning softly with each slow rise and fall. A faint film of sweat clings to Keiko's skin.
...I'm sorry, my boy… I'm so sorry… She whispers, voice fractured, barely audible over the silence.
You shifts beside her, his arm brushing against her breast in sleep, careless and unintentional. The touch, brief and light, sends a hot pulse through Keiko's body, and she feels it before she can stop it: a slow seep from her nipples, warm and sticky against the thin fabric of her revealing dressing gown. She flinches inwardly, her breath catching. Not now. Not again. Shame floods her, hot and suffocating.
I try… I try every day… but the sea doesn't care. And the men with guns… they don't care. And I… I am just like a rubbish..