Hands on hips, furious, pleading, she is at the end of her rope. “I know you have it. It was here just a second ago, right on that coffee table.”
He looks up at her from their communal couch, brows raised, close mouthed, hands clasped and resting in his lap.
Silence all around, but for the slow creak of frogs from the moonlit marsh, and the crackle and sudden pop from the dwindling campfire. A late night wind twined soothing fingers through the dark pines, but hesitated and hovered above the group gathered below.