The old man awoke to the boy staring at him. His vision was still blurry. As he wiped his tired eyes, he noticed the dry blood and cuts on his hand. He frowned, but then looked up at the boy and smiled. “I brought you some soup.” the boy said anxiously. “I’m not hungry. You should eat it.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
The boy stared at the old man curiously and asked, “How do you feel?” “I’ve been defeated. I feel very tired.”
“You know you’re great fish was 18 feet long. The shop owner down the bay said it’s some kind of world record. Everyone thinks you’re the greatest fisherman who ever lived. “ “It was a very great fish. You’re right about that.”
The old man staggered slowly out of his shack, and the boy followed closely behind him. They both leaned the outside of his household. It was a miserable day. The weather was cold and rainy, and no one was walking on the dirt road down to the marina. “I think I need to lie back down, I’m very tired” the old man said. “Okay, well I’ll be back tomorrow and bring some coffee. You have to tell me your great stories of the sea.” “Okay boy. Thanks for the visit. You’re a true friend of mine; I wish you were with me on that boat.” “I wish I was too. I’m sure it was very exciting. Bye. Sleep well.” The old man lied on his newspaper bed and stared at the roof. Minutes later, he fell asleep. The boy returned the next day, and him and the old man had coffee, and talked for hours about all the adventures that happened in the sea. The boy sat attentively the entire time, and didn’t say a word. The old man’s eyes beamed with excitement, and he did hand motions with nearly every aspect of his story. “And then I came back to shore, with a sense of pride and disappointment.” The man said sadly. “Well, you’re an inspiration to me, Santiago. You really are. I wish I would have been able to help you. I feel like your wounds are my fault.” “Oh, don’t say that boy. I’m just not what I used to be. That’s...