Book Five, Chapter 46: By the Campfire
Michael built a fire so fast that I would have thought he had a trope for it.
There was a burn pit just off Bobby's rental's back porch, surrounded by overbuilt wooden deck chairs. The chairs easily weighed 60 pounds, and the wood was rough, but next to the fire, they were comfortable.
We each sat around, some on the porch, some near the fire, and we talked about our lives, our fears, and our hopes. But mostly, we talked about the storylines we had run.
The longer we were in Carousel, the more the game started to dominate our lives and personal histories. How was I supposed to compare anecdotes about high school to anything that had happened to me at Carousel?
I couldn't.
No one could.
Even Andrew, who had found some success as a doctor before coming to Carousel, mostly talked about his experiences in storylines. And Michael, who was a legitimate soldier, had more war stories involving ghouls and goblins than actual human conflict back home.
I missed the campfires at Camp Dyer.
It was a nightly ritual to sit out under the stars. The weather there was almost always perfect, and even the rain had been warm. In eastern Carousel, the wind cut through my hoodie and chilled my bones, but still, it was nice.