Dean got out of the water, and adjusted the sail on his skiff.

The solar winds would be kicking-up soon.

The harbor was a chemical pink color, which reminded him of Double Bubble Gum.

If he could only find a shipping crate full of cigarettes, he would be set for life.

His entertainment, the last few months, had been Maxime Magazine and Vogue. Women in weird clothes, didn’t do it for him.

They looked too much like space aliens, rather than a body he wanted to…

and the articles were on female power and domination.

“What utter hogwash,” Dean said to himself.

He hadn’t seen a female in over 8 days.

The last one, told him she would do anything to please him, if he would let her on board,

but Dean didn’t.

It was impossible to live with a woman when the world wasn’t burning. Now, that it was, it was a foregone conclusion. Humanity was doing all kinds of unspeakable evil in the name of love.

Now, it had loved itself to death.

Dean laughed.

There were still fish to eat, under the chemical spill though, but the ocean currents were several degrees warmer, and the ecosystem was dying.

He looked at his maps.

Getting to the Florida Cape, was his goal.

The only way to survive was to escape the planet.

The sky was on fire, and the smoke made it impossible to breathe. He needed a bigger boat.

The woman he met last week, was surviving on a shipping container, at the other end of the harbor.

Dean thought about her. She was completely naked— undoubtedly, trying to flag-down the next available man who would fisher her out of the water, but it wasn’t going to be him, or so her thought, but the nagging thought wouldn’t go away. He was already feeling guilty. There was a woman in his head, and the only way to get her out, was to pick her up.

To be continued…

3 thoughts on “The Woman in Dean’s Head

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