4338.208 · July 27, 2018 AD
At Least We Like Each Other
Morning brings a parade of tent-flap intrusions: a medical examination revealing new injuries, camp logistics that need discussing, and well-meaning visitors with spectacularly poor timing. When Joel quietly asks if there's anyone here Jamie actually likes, the only honest answer is currently trotting beside him. Then small mercies arrive—bacon, Joel eating for the first time—before another scream announces fresh crisis.
The universe has a peculiar sense of humour—give a man a son who can barely speak, then surround them with people who won't stop talking.
Morning arrives with Glenda's medical examination revealing Joel's broken finger. Then Paul announces he's moving tents. Then Kain appears wanting to check on Joel. Each interruption frays Jamie's patience further until he snaps—and immediately regrets it.
"Is there anyone here that you like?" Joel's quiet question cuts through the noise.
The honest answer walks on four legs. Duke demands nothing more complicated than a walk, offers nothing less than unconditional loyalty. At least they like each other.
Small mercies follow: the smell of bacon, Joel managing to eat a single bean—progress worth celebrating. Henri's transformation from placid lapdog to food-seeking shark provides comic relief. For a moment, something like normalcy seems possible.
Then a scream tears through camp.
Glenda rushes toward whatever crisis awaits. Jamie stays behind, guardian of bacon and beans, stretched between Joel in the tent and unknown danger beyond the dune.
Just one morning without drama. Apparently too much to ask.
