The torn, shattered husk of the Boeing Dreamliner lay delicately just beyond the far reaches of the beach. Large, grievous holes littered the exterior of the large planes hole, but for Amy, it was shelter enough. For the past two weeks she had been living insides the plane's remains, the only survivor of a freak accident that left her stranded on this empty island. It was a lonely, though serene, existence. She held few complaints about the situation itself aside from one pressing concern.
Food. Rather, a lack of food variety. The trees in the nearby held an abundance of pineapples and coconuts. Enough to sustain Amy for the long term. The problem was, however, that Amy absolutely despised fruits. She couldn't handle their sickeningly sweet flavor. She was a more of a meat and dairy kind of woman.
As one could imagine, that made the previous two weeks a dining hell. She couldn't handle another meal more of the damned stuff.
She needed more. She needed something that wasn't that. So she left her shelter once more, headed for...
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