Polum Chill

"'It's awesome,' I admitted, opening the gate and surveying the area.'

I walked out in between the trees and found a flat spot for the tent.

I turned around to ask Chris's opinion and paused, a little disappointed.

It didn't feel like real camping when his house was so obviously in our faces.

Let's go a little further in so at least it feels legit, I said, and walked back to pick up my bags.

Chris objected to carrying his heavy shit any further.

We walked in a straight line from Chris's house and kept checking behind us until the house was just about obscured by trees in front of each other.

We'd only gone a very short way in, but the forest was already thicker and greener.

There was even a long rope swing hanging from one of the trees, but it looked too old to hold our weight, so we decided to keep our spines unbroken and give it a miss.

I unpacked the tent and set it up with Chris's help, and we threw our sleeping bags inside.

I laid down inside to test it out.

It was so warm and humid I had to adjust my breathing for a second.

I stepped out again and asked Chris if he had a flashlight for the evening.

I can do better than that, was his response, and he took off toward the house.

I was too hot to run after him, so I opened my rucksack and cracked open a bottle of water, downing half of it and putting the rest back in the pack.

I laid down on a patch of grass and looked up at the canopy.

The leaves were gently shifting in a breeze I couldn't feel from down here, and I watched them sway and mesh together until I heard Chris return.

"'Did you get a flashlight?'

I asked, closing my eyes.'

The sun shone through my eyelids and colored my vision red.