So this one time my friend Robert invited me to tag along with his frat out to the beach. I was like, ‘sure, why not,’ you know, because I was trying to get out more. Ever since I’d broken up with Brook, I’d been kind of a shut-in. I knew that it was getting to me and down wasn’t a direction I wanted to keep spiraling.

So I caught a ride with Robert to the beach for the afternoon, and there’s like seven of us. It was a sweltering day in the city, but at the ocean it was easily twenty degrees cooler. Salt wind and decomposing sea-stuff filled the air. It was refreshing, honestly, despite the sand that got in my nostrils.

The sounds of cracking beers and anti-feminist jokes followed a volleyball back and forth through the air until dinner. Then the barbecue and more beers came out, and half of us were sent on a mission to collect driftwood. I had thought we would leave by sunset, but that didn’t seem to be their plan. I wasn’t sure if they had a plan or if I even cared. Something about all of them was starting to drag on me, but I kind of figured it was just my wet pant legs.

Robert smiled at me, and I realized I must not have looked like I was enjoying myself. “I’m cool,” I assured him, and that must have made him feel better because he didn’t ask again.

It didn’t take long to start a blaze. It got bigger and bigger, and then they pulled out a stereo and passed around a bottle of something much stronger than beer. Their alt-folk metal cut through the cooling air with a rage that made me more uncomfortable, but I couldn’t leave.

Someone started dancing. And then someone joined them. A string of laughter and another round of drinks. I don’t remember if I threw up before or after I got dragged into their dance circle, but it didn’t help me sober up.

No, instead, I swear it was about that time the fire started talking. See, we put our arms around each other’s shoulders and did a series of kicks around the bonfire. And I swear to everything that is holy, the face of a great clay god rose from the flames and began to sing with us in an off-key roar. I stared up at the sky where his body of orange and yellow blotted out the stars, and I wondered if gods were ever lonely.

Another of My Favorite Muses