Dinner Preferences

It was ridiculous. Two camps stood no more than ten feet apart, each of the owners assiduously not looking at the other. They might as well have stared for all the good that it did. I hadn’t left them for but a few hours, but apparently something had happened while I was away.

Jaem sat on a log, outside of both camps, dejectedly picking a loose thread out of his shirt.

I motioned him over. “What’s going on here?”

His return whisper was lower than mine. “Well Liz didn’ like what Junior did to her cookin’- said he ruined it, so she had herself a snit, set up another fire and started over. I don’ envy you though.”

“Why? What does this have to do with me?”

“You? You’re the decidin’ force. Whoever you eat with, for lack of a better term, wins.”

“Oh for the love of- Why me?”

“‘Cause they both respect you. I gotta be honest, I don’ envy you. No, not one bit.”

We had miles to go and enemies on our heels, but somehow they found time to bicker amongst themselves. This had to stop if we were going to survive.

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