Tony woke, surprisingly not to the sound of his alarm.
But to the sound of waves clashing on the rocks.
For weeks this has been the only way of getting sleep.
Tony kept a Discman on his bedside table, the volume up extremely loud; it was the only way he could drown out his thoughts.
His thoughts of Kate.
But no matter how loud the volume was up, it could not drown out his dreams. The same dream, every night, Kate begging him to let her die.
Tony realised that today was Saturday. Which meant no work. Which meant a whole two days of sitting at home. Drowning his sorrows with a bottle of vodka.
But his sorrows were never drowned. They just find a small island at the back of his mind.
Deep, deep in his subconsciousness.
Tony got out of bed.
Sure of himself that this weekend would not be like the rest.
He decided that he would go sailing.
Kate loved to sail. One time he had snuck a look at her sketchbook. It had a beautifully drawn picture of a whit sailboat.
It held so much detail. Tony could just imagine the waves lapping against the hull.
So it was decided. Today Tony would go sailing.