The sistahs had arrived.  One kept asking questions, out loud, of everyone.  "What are all these people doing in the woods?" 

     "I don't know," was the common answer.  This went on for three days of the five day camping trip, two days to get from and to Jersey.  Another sistah was "just amazed that's all." 

     "She doesn't get out much." 

     "Yes I do." 

     "No.  You don't." 

     "Okay.  I don't.  Even though I do." 

     A third off'd her roles of the past couple months, finished the beer she'd started over s'mores, and publicly disowned her children, "at least for the next five days".  "Where's Mahgie?" 

     "Off with her old people friends." 

     "We good?" The coals from a breakfast fire and warming socks glowed to a salmon-orange color from burning bright red.

     It was maybe about an hour later when one came back followed by four or five other young women.  "They have issue with something you wrote." 

     (i)Huh(i) "Me?!" 

     "You are Lara, correct?!" 

     "What is it about? I mean, which sentence?" 

     "Girls." 

     "Hi.  I'm Gloria."