Call It Home

The island had been good to them. Despite its humble size, there were many corners of the rugged terrain that still held small secrets just waiting to be discovered.

A smooth woven basket hanging on her arm, Des made her way from the cave down the rugged hillside of the island's north face to the warm sweet grove that slowly turned from wildly growing fruit trees to enormous lazy palms. Miniature sandstorms arose where her feet stirred the arenaceous soil, coating her evenly tanned skin in a layer of fine dust.

With knowing hands, Des grasped the soft ripe oranges off of a swinging bough that had grown inconsiderately low across the winding path and placed them in her basket. She proceeded to do the same with limes and lemons, the tender stems releasing their swollen fruit willingly from the trees, until her basket was full.

It was kowledge of things like this that bugged Kiran. There were some tiny helpful tidbits of information that Des occasionally recalled that made life not only possible but also more pleasant for them on the island. Yet she never could recall just how they came to her. Fleeting images of fish and shrimp in a kitchen with checkered tiles rested on the outskirts of her mind, allowing her to prepare their first meal they'd ever shared on this very shore over a year ago.

Once she had reached the quiet lagoon where Kiran stood, patiently fishing, Des positioned herself in the shade and began to peel the fruit she had gathered for ceviche. When the oranges, lemons and limes were bare she squeezed their sour pulp and juices into a large wooden bowl until there was enough to cover the slippery pink fillets of fish that Kiran was presently skinning on the rocks near the ocean.

When the fish was clean he approached Des with his familiar silence and pressed the fish into the bowl.

"Onions?" he asked.

"Onions would be good," Des agreed, "Are there any in the cave?"

Kiran nodded and went to retrieve them. When he returned he also held a tan plantain and a bristly brown coconut to add to the ceviche.

"Do you think you could find some eggs for tonight? I'd go myself but my leg is bothering me again."

"Sure," Des responded without looking up as she sliced onions into the fish and fruit, "Dinner will be a bit late though."

"No problem. I can wait. All we have is time."

The End

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