Write four lines of prose about: summer camp.
Heading back to the market tomorrow morning with seventy pints of strawberries, four pints of raspberries, and two hundred pounds of cherries. Oh, and some rhubarb and the last of our bedding plants. And, you know, my greeting cards. I guess.
They're kind of feeling like an afterthought this week though.
The counsellors gathered in the open field beyond the children's cabins, standing silently with hands stuffed deep into jacket and short pockets. Above them the moon was obscured in the night sky by patchy, silver-lined clouds.
"Tony was a real pain in the ass today," a voice finally said, though it was difficult to say which of them had spoken. "My vote goes to eating him tomorrow."