Her and the ocean.

He rowed.

He had always rowed, and he would row forever. It was all he knew. He knew nothing else except that in this endless ocean, he would remain forever. He didn't know his name, nor the name of this ocean. How long had he been here? He didn't know. An eternity, perhaps.

Or maybe he had arrived here years ago, for some unknown reason.

He simply rowed, in this vast, calm ocean. And always in a single direction. One and the same direction. Where the sun set. Life wasn't difficult; he just had to row, without thinking of anything else. Anyway, what could he think about? He knew nothing else besides this small boat and this ocean. He didn't even have to think about thinking. He just had to push with his arms to move forward.

When night fell, he would stop, lie down in his boat, and gaze at the starry sky until he fell asleep. At the first light of dawn, he would start rowing again towards where the sun set. His calm routine was never disturbed by anyone or anything. No birds, no fish, no other boats. He was alone in this blue world.

Until he saw her.

The sun had just risen when he saw her. She was magnificent. Her pale skin was beautiful. Her beautiful scarlet hair fluttered in the usual gentle breeze over the ocean. She wore a light, black tunic.

She was there. Walking on the water.

Her small steps were as graceful as her appearance. With each step, a slight ripple spread across the water's surface. With each step, she came closer to the boat. This beautiful woman looked at nothing but the horizon, also heading where the sun set. She didn't even seem to notice him.

Once level with the boat, she didn't pay it any attention, continuing on her way.

"Where are you going?"

He asked.

"…"

As if in response, the wind shifted directly ahead. Towards where the sun set.

"How can you walk on the water?"

For the first time, she deigned to look at him. She stared at him in silence. Her eyes were a fiery red, yet they seemed colder than the deepest parts of the ocean. Finally, she resumed her walk. As she walked, she moved away from him—he had stopped rowing some time ago. Soon, he would be alone again in this ocean. This girl walking on the water would disappear into the azure horizon.

Had he gone mad? Had he always been mad? How could anyone be here? He had never seen a single person. It was simply impossible. No one could be here. Much less someone who could walk on this ocean. He, who had always had to row here, no one could have walked. He must be dreaming.

Always, he rowed. He had never done anything else. It was foolish to try anything else. What could he do, anyway? Swim? Walk on the water? Impossible.

Impossible.

It was impossible.

Who had told him that?

Who had told him it was impossible?

All he knew was that he rowed. Who had told him he had to row? Who had told him it was impossible to do anything else? Who?

Who?

"No one."

No one. He knew nothing and no one but himself. No one had told him he had to row. But still, he did. No one had said it was impossible to walk on the water or to row. He knew nothing and no one, except himself.

And her.

He wanted to find her again.

He stood up in the boat and placed his foot over the side. He made a small hop to place his foot on the water.

And, then, he walked.