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you know, i’ve never made fire.

like a bonfire.

i am always with a group of people who are more experienced campers than me, so without thought i leave them to it. but my friend from DC was over who had never roasted marshmallows before and wanted a fire. it was a 90% chance it would rain in ten minutes, but i will be damned if i were to let a few drops of water deter me. i’m 70% percent water, fudga’.

well, i failed. maybe should have ehow’d how to make a fire? makes it even more ironic that i am about to receive my red card from NWCG. after a lesson that the brush should be tucked under the heavier stuff and fire burns up (who knew), one of my roommates (who i insensitively named Weasley in my head) brought up the flames to the echelon on my freshmen mixtape. i quickly ran inside and fireman carried my friend, plopping her on a blue lawn chair, hastily telling her to make a delicious treat over a fire. fuck a microwave. they cause cancer, ya’ know. i read it in the gazette, i swear!

five minutes. i could hear the pitter-patter rain of carnage from a hundred yards away. all of the other roommates were outside by that point, making plans to return inside. my friend could have had her treat by now if i didn’t drop a log to smother the fire a few minutes ago. 

have you ever heard rain announce its presence slowly? it’s relaxing. in my mind it is even yet askew. but closing your eyes, you can hear it hitting every organism, every compound leaf, every skittish Bambi, every tent in A-loop, and every stupid rock. for a brief moment, it is as though i can put a tag on everything. my eyes were closed for about five minutes. it was raining assertively when i opened my eyes. i was hanging on to my friend’s three marshmallows over the flame for too long on one side. the rain arrived on the scene, fierce. like Beyonce. the fire went on for about ten more minutes, due to ginger magic. i sat there until it went out. Squirtle beats Charmander again. then went inside and watched Netflix.