Most of the time the thing I miss the most is the absence of things

When Robinson Crusoe returned, he found that someone had gone through his stuff.

Robinson rubbed his eyes. Wasn't that his Encyclopedia Britannica? And there: the rare recording of "Relax – Wagner for meditation", sleeveless in the sand! He sprinted towards the palm trees, where he had built his studio apartment.

Oh no! The place was a mess. His collection of vintage plastic bags, his disposable coffee cup lids, and the shirts he had carefully woven from coconut fibers and monkey nose hair - all one big clutter.

The worst sight was the office: ransacked drawers, his goat leather couch dirty with chocolate, his typewriter gone. Robinson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In, out, in, out – relax. At least they hadn't taken his record player. 

No girl is an island.

Lillian was an island girl. She loved the sea and its temper, its mood swings in spring, and how it changed color with the approaching storm. Every afternoon she walked down to her favorite spot on the dock and watched the sun set. Lillian was happy. Until one day she wasn't happy anymore. And since she was not only an island girl, but also the only girl on the island - and more precisely: the only person on this deserted, godforsaken piece of rock amidst the waves - she had the freedom to make a quick decision. She would leave. No discussion.

Lillian was a hands-on girl. The very next morning she built a boat from a coconut shell and a mangrove root and sailed out to sea. This afternoon she wouldn't watch the sunset from the dock. 

Lillian was venturous, but not always lucky. Before night fell, her boat started taking on water. Within an hour it was gone. Again Lillian was alone with the sea.

Lillian was drifting on the open ocean. For days and days and nights. For the first time in her life she felt absolutely helpless, completely at the mercy of the sea. For the first time in her life there was nothing she could do. She had to surrender. On the third day she started liking it. 

Lillian was washed up on a beach after two weeks. She was too weak to get up. All she could do was lift her head a little, so she could see the sun set over the ocean. She smiled and coughed up a gallon of salt water. Then she fell asleep for a night and a day.

Lillian woke up in the afternoon. Although she still felt dizzy, she realized that somebody was watching her. Lillian looked up. In one of the palm trees there sat a girl. 

Leilani was an island girl. She loved the sea and the wind and the pattern of the palmetto shadows on the sand. When she saw that the strange dead girl on the beach had opened her eyes, she slowly climbed down her tree. It couldn't hurt to sit with her for a while.