He wanted to close his eyes. He coveted that warm, fluffy bed in his room. But reality hit him, reminding him that there were far more important things to do. He tried to relax by sitting at the corner, with a mug of warm water in his hands and a dry bread in his mouth. He had to restore his stamina as soon as possible. With that in mind, the hollow eyes were reflecting the glow of the flares occurring sometimes out there.
"Man this place is just hell." He heard Stringy the repairman, the mechanic, ranting out loud opposite him. His curly hair reminded people of the rounded strings at the workplace, so they called him Stringy.
Yang Ming was smiling, showing agreement on what Stringy had said. He took a few sips. He would love to give a word or two but his throat was cracking from drought.
Suddenly, the ship shook violently, that the water escaped Yang Ming's grip and shattered on the ground.
