Drop 157: Camping

IMG_0755They arrive late and hurry to put the tent up before dark. He steps on her foot in the rush. Large man in boots. Slight woman in sandals. Full weight.

She sucks it up. There is work to do.

Fly nets, poles, guy lines and pegs. Pull it over. Push it through.

Anxious to finish, he shoves a pole through to far, poking her curtly in the ribs, and again in the left breast. It hurts and the scratch is clear under her top. He doesn’t apologize. Maybe he didn’t notice. It’s getting dark.

Tighten it up. Hammer it in. Headlights needed now to get it done.

Then inside to set up the sleeping quarters. He yanks a sleeping bag from the backpack with force, elbowing her in the ribs. ‘Here unroll that,’ is all he says.

She does, and the other, and blows up the first thin air mattress. The head is where the feet should be, so she turns it around in the tight space, grazing his shoulder ever so slightly with the corner as she does.

He jumps back as if electrocuted, and squeals. ‘Ow, Jesus! Watch out! Damn, that hurts,’ he says, rubbing his muscular deltoid, pulling his sweatshirt out to look for blood. ‘Be careful, for Christ’s sake. You could have blinded me!’

By EM Vireo


About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

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