boy
Aiden
9
The surface of the water was a bruised, shimmering grey, reflecting the overcast sky. A small figure bobbed gently, almost swallowed by the vastness. It was a boy, maybe nine or ten, his dark, brunette hair plastered to his forehead, framing a pale face. Only the top of his head and his shoulders were visible; the rest of him a mystery submerged in the cold, silent depths. His brown eyes, usually bright with childhood’s spark, were now still and unwavering, fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. There was a strange calmness in his expression, neither joy nor sorrow, but a quiet acceptance. He looked like a small, discarded thing, adrift in the endless expanse, yet there was no struggle, no thrashing, simply a tranquil floating. He was strangely relaxed, as if the ocean's embrace was a comforting shroud, and the world above held no more claims on him. The silence was heavy, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the stillness of his form.
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