They had forgotten to close the window flap on the tent the night before. It was early morning now, and the light had started to come in; a cool, damp air had already come in and settled into the corners.

She had been awake for about 20 minutes, annoyed by the light that irritated her even through her closed eyelids. Michael was curled up in the corner, half in his sleeping bag with one leg hanging out. His shirt was undone and had spilled open, and even now he smelled like booze. His bandage had bled through the night and stained the wall of the tent.

She grabbed her discman and stepped out of the tent. It was cold outside, and she could tell that the day would not heat up much with the sun. The campsite was a disaster, and the broken glass was all over the place, right where they had left it. She pressed play, felt a knot in her throat, and walked down to the lake so if anybody woke up, they wouldn't be able to see her crying.