As you walk, the fantasy world you lived inside the Ship Wreck recedes from sight and memory. Instead you see waterlogged furniture and broken windows everywhere. Striding by a bruised warehouse that has been converted to apartments, you hear the wailing of a saxophone coming from inside. You stop and listen, trying to place the tune. Nothing. A man in a hooded sweatshirt steps from behind a broken desk. He’s smoking a cigarette.
“Deja vu.” You mumble to yourself and speed up your walk.
You reach the boat, rediscovering your two oarsmen snoozing peacefully on what so recently was the shore of a great urban lake. The waters have receded in the last three hours, baked by the sun and drained by the recovering sewers. You lean over Shane's slumbering body.
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