“Hey dork, it’s 2 in the afternoon. Why are you in a sleeping bag?”

“Nuh-uh, it’s a submarine. I call it The Big Adventure.”

“Big adventure, huh, in the middle of the basement floor, Darryl?”

“Nope, under the polar ice cap.”

“Looking for Russians, I suppose?”

“Nah, they said hello, but I’m after bigger fish—the ghost of Captain Nemo!”

“Which explains the water gun and…”

“Plasma blaster.”

“Right. Got it. Whatever. You seen mom or dad today?”

“Nope.”

“Sigh. You had dinner, squirt?”

“Sea rations.”

“You know you’re not supposed to eat those granola bars down here. They leave a mess, so just clean it up after, okay.”

“Aye-aye, Admiral Baggypants!”

The boy sailed on, a deep and distant journey powered by imagination. Leagues and leagues from an empty house, fathoms below feeling alone or isolated in any way that could hurt. A cold sea held him, welled up mighty surges around him, insulating and numbing.

The boy sailed on and on, deeper and deeper, all within The Big Adventure.