Some cots and outdoor furniture. All insignificant expenditures. The overhead was low, the time involved was minimal. The operation practically ran itself. What could go wrong? The camp had just been open for the summer but it was going to be a short season. The counselors had spent the day sweeping and cleaning doing a little bit of carpentry, hauling out the targets for the archery range, storing the supplies. Most of the work was finished; they'd been at it for about a week and none of them was a stranger anymore, if you had already grown close. As they sat around the campfire singing "Michael row your boat ashore," Barry hugged his legs and watched Claudette playing the guitar. The two of them were singing an all together different song, one that did not require any words. Their eyes sent messages. Claudette finished playing as they sang of the last "hallelujah" and wordlessly handed the guitar over to one of the other girls. Her gaze locked with Barry's. Barry stood and offered her his hand. She took it smiling knowingly and they left the campfire as the group started singing "Hang down your head Tom Dooley…"

The sounds of singing and the guitar receded as they walked through the darkness toward the barn.

The crickets were also singing in the night. Claudette hesitated at the entrance to the barn, pulling back on Barry's hand.

"Somebody'll see," she said.

"No they won't," Barry tugged her gently by the hand, leading her into the darkness of the barn. He closed the door behind him and flipped on a light. As he turned, Claudette rushed into his arms, their lips met in a long kiss.

"Does Mary-Ann kiss as good as I do?" Claudette asked coyly when they both came up for air.

"How would I know?" Barry said, a bit too quickly.

"Oh, you."

"Come on."

He took her hand again and led her up the steps to the loft. Claudette picked up a worn woolen blanket. She paused, staring at him uncertainly.

"You said you were special," she said as if reading from a script used by countless young couples before them, performing the necessary motions of the courtship ritual; the unspoken agreement sealed with knowing gazes and lingering kisses. The token protests, the need for reassurance at the very last minute.

"I meant everything," Barry said, kissing her to prove it. Perhaps he really did, but it was more likely he didn't and she probably knew it too. The physical need two people felt for one another was only the beginning. Sometimes it was an end in itself. A brief sharing of pleasure and he had mutually fulfilled and selflessly taken. Sometimes it was only a catalyst for something deeper: a bond of real intimacy, but that kind of intimacy only came with time and although they didn't know it, neither Barry nor Claudette had much time left.