He’s still out there.
I know he is.
I don’t care how long it takes him to get back, I’ll be here waiting.
They tell me to give it up.
They say he’s gone for good and he’s never coming back, but I’ll bet he’s swimming toward me even as we speak.
Give up, they tell me, but here’s the thing.
They found the rest of their bodies, the other fishermen, but they never found his.
Ever.
Maybe I should start the soup now.
He’ll probably be pretty cold when he gets here.