I Would Rather Die of Thirst

Kagoatweed’s Rant: R&R, and be inspired, but PLEASE don’t steal ideas.

This is a half-collaboration with a friend. He wrote a similar story, and I wanted to write the same story my own way. His is very good, though. His story is called "All The Better to Die of Thirst." (See where I got my title?) I highly recommend his stories.
You will definitely see the similarities. They are intentional on my part. Just keep it on the down-low! ;)

...and there we were on our raft. The sun berated me silently, hurting me constantly, and the water lapped against the haphazard edges of our makeshift boat. Occasionally, usually at the most awkward nighttime hour, the water would splash over the side, wetting my toes and your fingertips. It was not that the sea was less restless during the day, but simply that the sun dried the water too quickly for you do truly realize that anything had changed. And so the moon became my friend, he who let things flow.

And we were dying on that little boat. The quiet caresses of the world’s salty tears held no satisfaction and we were drying out, going to die of thirst. The sun had stolen the very thing that kept us alive.

And we were no longer abandoned. A formidable vessel had thrown its shadow over our little craft and tossed down a majestic knotted rope ladder, questioning faces peering over the rail at the little ship they almost capsized. I saw you think about taking that ladder, leaving me on the raft for the water to lap at alone. If you had stood, slipped your foot onto the bottom rung of the ladder, and offered me your hand, I would have refused. To take that ladder was to leave this world behind, and I would rather die here of thirst. Instead of taking the ladder, though, you took a glass. One glass, only a few mouthfuls of pure water to be shared, but there glistening in the sun it was all I ever wanted.

And the extravagant boat drifted away from us and our faux paradise, a man aboard waved another glass at us. I remember shaking my head no, feeling slightly disembodied. I knew that we could have a hundred glasses and still the sun would make us thirsty, I knew that even the night couldn’t save us. So, looking at the glass in your hand, I decided to let us drink once then die in the sun tomorrow.

And so I smiled at you, and felt the cool condensation on your fingertips as you touched my arm. The sun dipped behind another cloud, one I felt I should recognize the shape of, but before I could remember what it was, I remembered that you were there and that we only had one glass to share.

In another world, we might have been lovers. I think we were, in a world far away, in another time. But we’re not there.

And here we are, sharing a glass to forget the sun. You hand me the glass, only a few drops left in the bottom. “It’s empty,” and your voice echos off the waves. “Yeah,” I mutter into the glass. “But at least we’ll die tomorrow.”