<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 22px">Zoe Johnson</span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 10px">Twenty year old female<br/>
Knowledgeable in vegetarian food and preparation<br/>
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</div></span>​</div><span style="font-size: 15px">Zoe Johnson, a young woman with the dishwater blonde hair awoke, feeling disoriented, soaking wet where the front of her clothing touched the sand, drying in the hot sun that washed over her backside.  The only things she had were the clothes on her body, which now consisted of cut-off denim shorts and a light powder blue long sleeve hoodie over a red one piece swimsuit with a long zipper that ran from her collar to her navel.  She'd had deck shoes, but kicked them off to help stay afloat after their sailing boat had been violently rolled over and she'd been swept out of Michael's arms.  <br/>
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Feeling bruised and sore all over her body, she first rose up on her elbows and knees.  Turning her head to the right and then the left, she saw a long sandy beach.  She heard the waves washing the beach behind her.  Ahead of her, she saw a line of tropical trees.  She would need to get out of the sun, before her exposed legs became badly burned.  She felt very weak, but she managed to get to her feet.  She slowly turned herself around in a complete circle, looking for any trace of civilization, but only nature, the island and the sea, could be seen.<br/>
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Oh, God!  She was okay, but where was everyone else?  Where was Michael?  He couldn't die, they were supposed to be getting married!  Zoe shouted his name to the sea, to the beach and to the tree line, "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 102, 255)">Michael!  Michael!!  Michael!!!  MICHAEL!!!!</span>"  But if he, or anyone could hear her, she didn't hear anyone call back to her.  She decided to get off of the beach and into the shade.  Maybe someone else would wash up on the shore, or come walking in her direction.<br/>
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[ Open for interaction ]</span>