Get off the roof

Well, nobody spots you. But you get down from the roof and find the remains of your camera. The memory card is OK, but the camera is busted. Honestly, the loss of the camera is not a big deal compared to the lost value of the other shots that you might have gotten tonight. This absolutely blows.

Feeling discouraged, you trudge away from the lodge. It’s hot and humid and the owls keep going off like that. Fucking owls.

It’s a long walk back to your car, and it’s hard not to be resentful as you make it with your broken camera in your hands. All those hot, young, well-paid soccer players are screwing their brains out in the Lodge while you’re walking through spiderwebs in the forest.

You get back to your car in the FUTA lot and drive back to the city. At least you recently moved into a slightly better apartment. You didn’t do it on your own, you did it because you moved in with your girlfriend. You leave your broken camera in the trunk, but take the memory card.

She’s waiting for you when you get home, sitting on the couch, watching Sex Education on Netflix. She jumps up as soon as you come in.

“There you are,” she says. “I was wondering where you were.”

This is Rita. Her life has been as crazy and difficult as yours. She’s black, she grew up poor, and she had a big penis in a time when it was not cool for girls to have that. She’s about your size and height, with a similar build, but the two of you could not be more different. Despite that, you actually seem to be pretty good together.

“Oh gosh, baby,” she says, seeing how you look. “Are you OK?”

At least somebody cares.