MATABUNGKAYSOON THERE would be no sun: only a brief, brief shimmer beyond, at the line where sky and sea meet, and then suddenly it would be dark. He
imagined the evening thus this waning afternoon, and he did not like the thoughts. So he broke away from it, crossing the white sand into the clearest blue waters. He swam. He could swim up to the
meeting of water and cloud, he thought boldly, but he could hear the voices now. He dove and went up and had changed direction; he was heading towards the shore the voices were. And he could see
his companions there, no longer clothed for bathing, but dressed, with dark glasses and balanggot on.
She was not there.
He rose from the waters and looked down, and saw his feet in the clear waters planted near a piece of seaflower. He stooped and got
