from the wake pt3

flitter, twitter, pitter, pat...a slow soft rain begins to fall. at last a break from the bake of the sky and just the ever so slake in his thirst. falling rain and nothing to catch it with besides his trembling fingers. he gets enuff onto his cracking tongue to cease it's burning and seconds after the coolness reaches his throat he passes out again. this is his cycle for days. no shade from heat; only enough rain to keep him alive until the next day. on the dusk of the 4th day of this, he contemplated sliding off his board and letting the sea take him. in his heart, he always thought that it would anyway. 'I am sooo tired" he thought to himself as he curled aboard the makeshift raft. the last rain he'd been so weak that he could only lick water from the board as it pooled near his face. "death, i am yours" he whispered as the sun sank.