Morning light skirted the eastern ring of the valley as gently as an Easter sunrise.
“Jack,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Jack . . . water?”
“No.”
“It’s all gone?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Sorry.”
“Okay.”
They drifted in a daze between waking and oblivion.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought you left.”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”