The Precious Dew, by Patrice Assiongbon Sowanou

I have never pay any attention to a dew in my entire life until the day it saves my life.

Sailing in the calm sea to next port, run out of power with dead engine, my companion and I drifted for several days.

There were visibly no help, from the ocean, from the wind, and from heaven.

By the time thirst, hunger and dizziness knocked at our door, we were already too weak to respond.

We fell unconscious, fainted for some hours with our mouths fully open only to find ourselves awake next morning alive, energized by the fallen dew.

From: Friday Flash Fiction


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