Every missing item in her imaginary checklist was gradually getting ticked off.

 

The other half of her cat-patterned socks, the clasp of her silver earring, the pen that she borrowed from Gia; they're all here, washed up as if waiting for her to pick them up. Though she recognizes bits and pieces of everything that is scattered around the island, there are also things that weren't hers. The mound of land was littered as far as her eye could see, and she was just at its shore. She squinted at the sea around her. But it was not like the movies where someone coincidentally passes by at the right time to save the damsel in distress. There were no boats, nor planes flying overhead to rescue her.