18. Harry

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It's been here awhile—that's apparent by the moss growing on the stones—but exactly how long, Harry can't tell.

He's still trying to make sense of it when Sunny joins him. Seeing her sends a wave of panic through him. What if something like this happened to her? Or him, leaving Sunny alone?

He doesn't want her to know his thoughts. He's worked hard convincing her that he doesn't have feelings for her—that kissing someone for a week straight without going further is a usual thing for him. He knows she has some sort of issue with the L-word and doesn't want to freak her out.

"I guess this explains what happened to who was here before us." He tries to sound calm.

And he is actually grateful to finally get some answers, however grim they may be. There was more than one person here, assuming they didn't die by burying themselves alive. Which brings Harry to the second point: for one reason or another, someone wasn't able to survive this island.

He crouches down next to the makeshift grave site, not knowing what he's looking for, but trying anyway. If they can figure out what killed this person, he and Sunny can avoid it. They'll be fine.

Sunny is still standing behind him. She hasn't said a word, and he wonders what's going through her mind. This is probably bringing up feelings from her dad's burial.

As well as he knows her, there remain times when he can't figure out if she wants to talk or wants to be alone. He settles on giving her a minute to think.

He hears a faint thunder. The storm is getting closer. They should be getting back to the tent. They can always come back here tomorrow if they want to, for whatever reason.

Something small catches his eye near the head of the grave.

He leans closer and squints but still can't make sense of it. It's mostly underneath one of the larger rocks. The visible portion of it is about the size of a quarter, and when he touches it, he knows it feels familiar. But it is so out of place in this environment, his mind is having a hard time registering what it actually is.

Finally he pulls it loose and realizes it's a plastic storage bag, like the kind he used to bring his sandwich to school in. But instead of food, this one is filled with folded up notebook papers. He can see something written on them, but the bag is so dirty that it's impossible to make out what it's saying.

"Should we open it?" Sunny says to his left. He hadn't heard her move closer.

He doesn't see why not. "I don't think they're going to."

He said it as a joke, desperate to lighten the air, but she doesn't smile. In fact, she looks as worried and upset as their first day here. He just wants to go back to the tent, cuddle with her and kiss her and pretend like they never found this, but he knows they need to get this over with.

He slowly slides the zipper across the top, exposing the contents to the elements that they haven't seen in what appears to be a long, long time. He removes the papers, unfolds them, and begins reading.

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