It was such a little thing.
It was always the little things, he'd found, that turned out to be the most important in the end.
It was ironic, he supposed, but then again that was how life worked sometimes.
A road forks, a river dries up, you peek in
(more) a window and see that Old Man Mose is dead.
Or you find a message in a bottle...
A real message in a bottle, just like you see in movies or read about in books.
But in the end, it wasn't the fact that he'd found a message in a bottle, him, to whom nothing exciting ever happened, but it was the contents of the message itself.
"I don't know you. I don't expect you to know me, either, because I don't mean to talk much about myself.
"My ship ran aground on a reef off the eastern coast of Australia. Well, to call it a ship dignifies it a bit too much, maybe. Try boat, or even more appropriately, junk.
"By the time anyone reads this, I'll be dead and gone. Don't bother looking for my body, it never pleased me that much while I was alive and I don't expect it'll please anyone at all when I'm dead, except for crabs on slabs on the bottom of the sea, and anyways I'd like it more if my death remained an enigma. That would suit me, I think.
"My name is Alice. I want you to know that it's not about how long your life is, it's about how deep it is. I'm twenty-three, and unless god himself swoops his hand down to catch me up in the next few minutes, that's the age I'll remain. But I lived deep, man (or woman), and that made me happy. Be happy."
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