Day in the Life of an Islander

I live on an island. Although you may think it would be relaxing, sometimes the hardest part about living on an island is trying to relax. The weather isn’t always 60 and sunny, the tourists aren’t always nice, and the nearest bar is 20 miles away.
As I said before, visitors sometimes stop by. A couple of them show up with black suitcases around 10 AM. Stragglers. Curious, they step off their boats and meander around the grounds. I watch them closely; some are not always welcome on this island. Alarmed by my unforgiving stares, they hurry back into their boats. As much as I hate to chase people away, it’s one of my jobs to protect the island.
A call comes through around noon just as I’m about to take a nap. It’s from the mother country. I pick up immediately, “This is the Island, what can I do for you?”
“A new shipment of residents is coming in, could you handle that?” asks the mother country councilman. I agree, groaning. New residents from the mother country were often very nice but were significantly flawed personality wise. They never stayed too long either.
At 3 PM, I left my post to go to the Cloud Nine Café. No one was there. “How’s business?” I asked the man at the counter unrolling a new pack of quarters. “Not so good,” he replied, “people don’t come around like they used to”. I sighed and looked down at my cup. “It will be fine,” said the man seeing the thoughts of hopelessness running through my head, “the island’s drift might do some good”.
“Island drift?” I asked looking up.
“See the building over there?” I fastened my head toward in the direction he pointed. Squinting the hardest I could, I only saw a faded lightening rod poking into the horizon. “No, I can’t,” I said.
“Exactly, we are drifting. Why a couple years ago you could see the whole building from here.”
“If there truly is an island drift, then wouldn’t that mean less people coming to the island from the mother country?”
“Probably, but who knows? Maybe we’ll have better luck without the mother country.” The man finished sorting the coins and went back to the backroom. Who ever heard of an island without a mother country? The man obviously had too much Cloud Nine juice…