Bart swept into the cabin from the rain. "All right, a fire! I thought you couldn't find any kindling." When Lee finally spoke, he sounded tired. "I found some."
"Tolja so. About time, too." Bart crouched and held his hands out to the fire.
"What are we doing here, Bart? This isn't—"
"Our car broke down! We were stranded! In the rain!" Bart waved off their breaking and entering.
"You said you'd get the car checked last week."
"So I forgot. We have shelter, heat, beds. We'll find a neighbor or something in the morning."
"I don't want to do this anymore, Bart."
"What, hog the fire?"
"Clean up after you. I've been doing it since we were kids, and we're really not kids anymore."
"So what? You're careful, I'm exciting. Who got you that date with Cindy Barcroft?"
"In seventh grade."
"She kissed you, didn't she? Hey, what's this?" Bart peered close at a glimpse of color on the edge of the fire. "Is that me?" It was, a photo half burned away.
"Like I said, I found something I could stand to burn." He left the spot in front of the fire, and for once Bart was speechless.