Being a Brit abroad, I wanted to be shirtless with a cold beer, but was instead forced to wear a dark funeral suit with black tie. It was the first time I had visited the small Island paradise that my wife of seven years grew up on. I had wanted to come earlier but my wife had always had reasons not to go. Studies, money, then work.To be honest I always thought it was a little strange how she always had an excuse not to return to her native land… not even for a holiday. It got to the point where I never thought I’d visit.But a death in the close family had finally brought us to this small spot of green in the southern reaches of the Indian ocean. {name omitted deliberately]. It’s beauty is undeniable as is that of the people. However, although it’s far from being lawless, corruption is rife.Anyway, back to the funeral. There was lots of tears of course. Everyone around were sobbing. However, having never known the deceased aunty apart from speaking on the phone once or twice I didn’t. I tied the shoelaces of my remaining boot together and slung it around my neck. I had no idea what I'd use it for but I'd already lost almost everything and decided I was going to keep whatever I could.I could get along without food but I knew I had almost no chance of surviving without water. I decided to follow the river. I might luck out and see some berries along the way. Plus, there was always the chance I'd get lucky and catch a fish or two.It was slow going with the crutch. I couldn't really put any weight on my left foot and that slowed me down considerably. After five miles or so, there was a real shore, almost a beach along the river. I struggled down the four foot slope and walked near the river. Sometimes the forest would come right up to the edge of the beach, others there were ten or fifteen feet of open space.It wasn't a white sand tropical beach by any means. There were lots of rocks, from skip along the water size up to mini boulders. They almost made it an obstacle.
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