Ainsley's Short Story: Who Is It?

"Ainsley, this is bullshit" demitris voice was drowned out by the rain as he followed Ainsley through the underbrush. the rain refused to let up, and while the canoe he was portaging was a good umbrella, demetri was still very wet.

"i think were a quarter mile away, want me to take the boat?" ainsley replied, stopping in the middle of the mudy path. all the leaves were tiny mirrors, shiny and reflective with rain. the evening mist was curling through the trees surrounding the portage trail reminding demitri that it was getting late.

"no, I should be fine. Thanks though," demitri shifted the canoe on his back and swallowed. "what time is it?"

Ainsley pulled back his coat sleeve, then his fleece sleeve, his polypro, then finally angled his watch so he could see.

"Ehhh, about 5:30, we should make it into camp in about an hour? it's a short paddle after this"

'Fuck,' demitri thought. he sighed, he had totally forgotten that they still had a paddle after this.

They ate and talked, all the while commiserating about the rainy day and rejoicing in the lull in the storm that they were experiencing at the moment. they ate quickly though, because although the rain had stopped, the mosquitoes were ever present. after they finished, demitri took to the lake to wash the pots and bowls as Ainsley began securing the campsite for night. once demitri finished cleaning, they packed the bear bins and brought them a safe distance away from camp. Finally, they were able to retreat to their tent, a welcome respite from the damp chill that hung in the aftermath of the storm. Demitri went in first to change while Ainsley grabbed his clothes trashbag from his pack.

Ainsley then changed as well, and the two snuggled into their sleeping bags to read, demitris headlamp crudely tied to the ceiling of the