Should I feel bad?
It will be irrelevant in a few hours, the sand will engulf both our wretched bodies. Christ!
Thompson bought it last night, though the sun had claimed his mind a lot earlier. He had spent most of his final hours on his stomach, just laying there resting his cheek against the sand, a miserable specimen of a man. He didn’t move or make a sound, and the only sign that marked his passing was when his eyes no longer blinked.
