We had hiked the entirety of Kume. We wandered for hours over beaches and roads and paths and more beaches until we eventually made it back to where we started – a grocery store. It was around that time, after hours of exposure, that my co-adventurer started to feel ill. I chalked it up to her just being unfit...until she dizzily stumbled over to a storm drain in front of the store and puked. Our only witness was an elderly woman nearby, who shook her head with a tsk. She was old as time itself and had a skin so weathered and wrinkled it could have stopped a bullet in its creases. Stooped by her years, she smiled and laughed at my seemingly-frail companion as she hobbled away.
I couldn't help but smile as well, though I now had to help my friend recover from her dehydration and heat exhaustion. I had water to lend, but nothing to help with the...uh, mess. I searched my bag for some toilet paper or a bandana or something. Nothing. But I did find my cheque book.
I tore off a cheque, voided it, and handed it to her so she could wipe the vomit from her mouth and hands. She glared at me.
“You voided it!?”
“Yeah, I voided it. You can never be too careful, right?”