Stranded on a Desert Island

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We live on a little island in the middle of the Gulf of Thailand, and the only way to get here is by boat.

At this time of year, Koh Tao has a brief but intense rainy season. A lot of locals head to sunnier places, and tourists opt for alternative destinations until the sky cries itself dry. However, we’ve elected to stay on this wet, lonely island, and now we’re stranded.

From our balcony, we’re watching the show unfold. Moody clouds are releasing dark smears over the island. I’ve never seen rain quite like this before.

Darkness has settled in as though it’s forever. Thunder rumbles overhead. It’s both scary and thrilling.

The sound of fat droplets falling on fronds is captivating.

We sit together in silence, watching and listening, hypnotized by the weather.

Sophia, the neighbour’s dog, comes by our bungalow, shaking from the cold. Twenty-four degrees Celsius is bone-chilling for a dog born in the tropics. She curls herself up into a tangle of limbs and tries to get warm.

We take pity on her and wrap her up in a blanket. “I’m also really hungry,” she says with her well-practiced expression of misery. “Bread and butter? Er, no. I only eat chicken.”

There is nowhere else to go until the rain stops. We’re stranded.

And I couldn’t be happier.

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