The Hopefuls {Mockingjay Swagger}

The sound of the waves has grown as familiar to me as the sound of my own heartbeat. They lap up gently on the sides of my small boat, splashing in occasionally. The boat tilts slightly, causing the warm water on the floor of the boat to come rushing onto my bear feet. A gull gives a distant call as it soars overhead. The warming rays of the sun beat down on me, on my bare back, reminding me how perfect today is. The sky is a delightul light blue, dotted with the occasional wispy cloud. Perfect weather replaces the extreme heat we had earlier in the week.

My mind wanders, but most of the thoughts revolve around food. I didn't eat much this morning, and my stomach feels very empty. I'd like to go home and eat a nice hot dinner, but my bucket is still not full of fish, and I'd like to meet up to my standard. Just another hour or two, and I can head home. The sun is lowering itself in the sky, identifying the time to be about two o'clock. I know Alana should be home around three. If I get home around there, we can eat and make a run to the market. We desperately need ordinary supplies, as it's been longer than usual since our last trip to the market.

I fish for a while longer, filling up my bucket with shiny cod. They glisten in the sun, making me even hungrier than before. I stayed out here longer than I wanted to, but I don't mind. The air is starting to cool and it will be an easy ride to the shore. I row steadily, inhaling the cooling air in long, drawn out breaths. My eyes catch a glimpse of several fish nearing the surface of the water. I love to come out early in the morning to watch the dolphins play. One time, two of them swam by, only a few feet from my boat. I wish I could experience that again.

I reach the dock, and haul out my few belongings. Take the fish in, slip on my shirt and shoes, and grab my pack. The walk home isn't long, so I take a small detour to walk on the beach for a few minutes, and pass by my favorite palm tree. My initials, along with Alana's are carved neatly into the bark of the tree, facing the ocean. I smile as if the two of us in a pairing like that would actually mean something. As if it proves the relationship I've always hoped for.

I take the rest of the walk easy. Strolling past the District Square, through a small community of homes, and Alana's and my humble little shack comes into view. My shoes drag on the dark, callused road, making my exhastion evident. My steps are heavy as I walk up the wooden steps and push open the front door. Usually I mutter a small greeting to Alana, but I don't feel like it and I don't see her in the room. I kick off my shoes and push them next to the door, next to hers. So she must be home then, I think.