OC RP NAV

 Nav lost his glasses in the flood. All he has now are his sunshades. "I was the last to get out," he tells the reporter, after all, he was the handyman at the trailer park. 

After a quick inspection with the RED CROSS truck, he trudges in the mud, thinking of the Smiths' Every day is like Sunday. The song plays out in his head. He can't even will it to stop, even when he winces hard, staring, to focus in, on his muddy boots. He'd just gotten a new pair last week. So shiny and new, and now perhaps impaired as much as being without his wire rim glasses. Someone hands him a hot container of coffee. It is bitter and hot. He swallows, knowing to keep going, there must be caffeine. But his bones are tired from all the struggles of getting the old and the young to safety. It's so bleak to him, wondering where the homes are now. Washed out to sea, he guesses.

Perhaps a little shaky, he goes on with the interview. "I'm glad everyone got out." He says that someone named Matthew was a great help. He wonders now how Matty found such stamina. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline, but he was right by Nav's side during the cold and wet disaster.

"So many of the old just wanted to stay put, like there was no hope. I know a lot of the trailers here hold so many memories. There were photos they must have cherished."

He listens to the question about the relocation at the old apartment building. "Well, of course, I'll go." He mentions he didn't have much to begin with. But he has no job, at the moment. His mother told him she'd help with his studies. "I won't be a handyman there. I plan to head back to med school." Although he feels troubled. It feels to him like a million years to accomplish his goal, but he promised his mother he would go back to India to be a doctor. Still, he feels he made the decision too quick. Especially when he sees Dakota in the crowd. She's brought him breakfast from McDonald's.