…The fire pops and spits softly as the flames lick the tender flesh of the saplings that lie atop the glowing logs, while the rain cascades from the sky, tearing into the muddy land that lie beyond the canvas sail that stretches over the camp site tightly. Joel stirs the coals with a pronged stick and casts a car less glance over towards Susan, dropping a cheeky wink her way, before he turns his attention back to Marx.
“I’ve always found this to be one of the grandest places to visit when I felt I needed to find the inner me that disappears from time to time. The stresses of life in the big city requires sacrifices to be made, and sometimes the cost for those sacrifices are more than the old head space can handle, so I pack a few things and head north, back to the place I call my true home, back here,” he says as the flames of the fire cast his smile into a distorted grimace.
“W-W-We didn’t m-mean t-to k…”
He holds up a hand in protest, and chews on his bottom lip roughly. “No one means to do such things as this, but it doesn’t stop these things from happening. It’s how we handle ourselves when we are faced with it, that is where our true selves come out to play.”
“There are no BUTS here today, there are only actions to counter actions…..”