Michael

A tiny red dot on the horizon, coming in and out of sight with the gentle rise of the ocean swells--that's how I first saw it. I sat up from the deck, stretching my salty, brown shoulders and continued to watch curiously from the dappled shade of the patched main sail. Flotsam wasn't out of the ordinary, of course. Every once and a while I would find something useful, an object that might ensure some measure of temporary safety and survival while foraging the mainland. I think it was the bright red color that held my attention, the way it stood out from my monotonous gray surroundings.###I fished the container out of the water with a pole before it floated past. It could at least hold rainwater. I rotated the red and white thing in my hands and my eyes came to rest on a pale, discolored, peeling label. 'Marlboro' it said, in thick, reassuring letters. How many years had it been since I had read something? I was just a kid back then. Back when the world wasn't broken. "Marlboro," I said out loud. I liked the way the word sounded: bold, strong, optimistic. I looked up from the container back out into the endless waves. Faint gray plumes in the distance assured me that land would soon be in sight. Maybe this time there would be others, I thought. Civilized people. Maybe we could work together to build a new land. Perhaps I'd call it Marlboro. I let the word echo in my mind. Marlboro. Marlboro. Yes. I think I'll call it Marlboro.