“We don’t know how clean that is,” Sam said to him. “I’m used to drinking the water here, but if you get diarrhea, it’ll only dehydrate you more.”

“I’m willing to risk that,” he chuckled. “I swallowed so much seawater, I’m desiccated.” He chugged at the bottle. It tasted of iodine. Someone had thoughtfully purified it for them. He passed it to Sam and she drank deeply from it.

“Slide over,” Tusker said and shimmied on to Sam’s bed. It was barely big enough for one, and groaned under his added 200-pound weight.

“Don’t you think we should go find out where we are?” Sam whispered, leaning up on one elbow to look at him. Tusker was shirtless, still in his swim trunks. She wore her bikini, but with a loose salwar top on over it. She didn’t know how she’d gotten it. Even in the dark, she could see the creases in Tusker’s face, his cracked lips. She licked her own and then bent over and kissed him. He put his arm around her and pulled her down. She laid with her head on his shoulder and draped her arm over his naked stomach. His skin was cool and she could feel the dried salt on it. The smell of his sweat excited her.

“You need a bath,” she said in a scolding whisper and feigned pushing him away. He pulled her tighter and she giggled. Tusker could feel her breasts against his side and her soft hair on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. They laid like that, clutching each other, for a long time.

When he awoke, Sam was still draped across him, breathing deeply. He held up his arm and squinted at his watch. 6:20. Day or night? He had lost all sense of time. He could only vaguely recall being hauled out of the sea in the morning, but he couldn’t be sure which day.

He gently lifted Sam’s arm, laid it down on the hard mattress, and stood up. His legs ached, cramped from being in the water for so long. From the next room, he could hear a TV or radio playing. Hindi music. He was suddenly ravenous. When was the last time we ate? He slipped across the cool concrete floor to the doorway, which was hung with a simple rod and fabric curtain. He peered out. A small woman was standing at a two-burner gas cooker, stirring something. His sudden appearance startled her.

“Hello!” Tusker said and smiled, hoping to put her at ease. She nodded and bowed slightly, avoiding eye contact. She could have only come up to his chest and weighed maybe 85 pounds. In this tiny house, where his head nearly reached the ceiling, Tusker must have seemed a giant.

She spoke. “Tea?” She held up a chipped cup.