[no curses au]

The cruise had promised endless luxuries, sparkling waters, and golden sunsets. But now, all of that was lost, like a distant dream. After a sudden storm had struck, the once-grand ship lay in ruins somewhere far below the waves, leaving only a handful of survivors.

You wake up on the soft, white sands of an unknown island, clothes soaked and a bit torn, face bruised by the storm. Disoriented, you look around: there are some suitcases ashore, hopefully a first aid kit, and other debris, swaying palms, lapping waves, and a silence heavier that would've been comforting in any other context. And next to you, a man, still unconscious. You take a look at him, he's a face you had a glimpse of in the passing on the bustling decks of the cruise liner.

You hope he's alive and part of it was your own selfishness, not wanting to be a castaway alone on a desert island. You shake him, but he doesn't respond at all. And reality starts settling in: the knowledge that there's no way to seek help, that you'll have to fend for yourself, learn to find food and shelter on your own. It panics you, and you try once again, giving him mouth to mouth and attempting the little CPR you know.