I walk towards the A&W machine, but soon realize that there is no root beer. The tears start to fall. The empty soda machine is another defeat in a life that has been full of them. The constant swimming and the salty water have worn me down, turned me into a husk of what I used to be. All that I know now is the endless crawl through the sea. Is my muscles aching and cannibalizing themselves. Is Wiseguy hanging heavy on my shoulders, constantly talking, clutching his Chobits manga.

I turn around and find that he has awakened. He sits under the shade of the vending machine, talks of mybrute, and anime. I don’t listen, never do.

And then I hear it, the sound of gas escaping. I could smell it from a mile away. That sweet sugary smell, smooth as honey, wafting through the air.

Wiseguy has taken the last root beer.

Somewhere between the 40th and 41st punch I begin to wonder why I am here, why I was chosen to swim eternally through the dark blue abyss. As the sun sets, what little muscle I have left grows tired. I wash the blood off my hands, pick broken teeth out of my knuckles.

The sea sprawls out in all directions, an endless blue horizon, and I begin wonder if maybe a man really can be an island, entire of self. The mainland is a distant dream. I haven’t slept in a million years.

I cover Wiseguy’s face with the manga, and lie down in the sand. The sand that has soaked up the rootbeer, my tears, the blood. The sand that has given me a blank slate, absolved me of sin.

The sea has won. And as I fall asleep next to what’s left of Wiseguy, I know that I’m not going to wake up. That both of us will lie here until we slowly become part of the island.

And I wonder if maybe, just maybe, that’s what true love is after all.

So I guess what I’m saying is that I’d take Arby’s.