“What do you think are in those crates?” I asked Aaron lying with him on the sandy beach between the alcove of rocks. This is the only place Aaron, and I feel safe enough to talk about our plans for escape. Running his finger up and down my side he shrugs. “I have thought about what it could be so many times but who knows. Probably food for the rancid. I don’t know what do you think?” “I think I would have to agree with you.” Aaron and I had a similar conversation like this every day. We would discuss what may or may not be in the crates. Then we would discuss how the boat moves and why the person on the boat never leaves the boat. It was the same discussion every day. It felt like we had to talk about it aloud just to make sure that the other was still planning on running away
