She had been drifting for three days and three nights now.
The old wooden boat creaked and strained. She looked anxiously at the sea water appearing gently through the hull. The pool of water grew slowly. She had a couple of hours until they would disappear beneath the surface.
The wind began to pick up. Waves lapped over the low edges of the deck.
She glanced up to see the gathering storm clouds. As she looked away she saw a fleck of movement. It came closer.
A seabird. No. A cormorant. A coastal bird. Land must be close. But how close?
Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details here). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
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