Broadway Murmurs

Date: 11/13/2016

The warm crackle of the fire had me melting in his arms. I could feel him quivering from the cold, so I shifted closer. Our friends sat around the fire sharing drinks. We admittedly had a bit too many ourselves. The smell of vodka, campfire, and weed clung to our clothes. All his favorite music drifted from our speakers as he drunkenly sung along. His slurred whispers were still broadway worthy. We had been camping in Colorado near a lake of some sort. The mountains surrounded us, as if shielding us from the world. Tall, lush trees were packed together in clusters, separated by open fields. Small mattresses lie sloppily in the trunks of our cars that encircled a large bon fire. Francisco just lie there silently prodding at the flames with bloodshot eyes. George was leaning on him, wishing Francisco would look at him like that. Ellissa, being the romantic she is, caught wind of this and began drunkenly harassing them to, "just kiss already." He and I laughed at this as if it was the funniest thing to grace the earth. I leaned further back on him and I felt the shitty plastic lawn chair lift its front legs from the ground and begin to tip back. I shrieked as we both hit the ground. Now our display was apparently the funniest to grace the earth as we struggled to sit up. It was especially difficult given how tightly we had wrapped the quilt around ourselves.