The Long Tale No. 37 - The Island

The small island sat, forlornly, in the midst of the lake. Slowly, over the course of many years, the gentle ebb and flow of the water had shaved away at its skin, leaving flakes of sand floating among the liquid. A single palm tree grew from the corpse of the island and under it sat the man. The sun had set many hours ago and he was enjoying watching the vast array of stars twinkle in the cold night air. The moon, the very cause of the island's demise, was now rippling in the water. But still the island survived.