Sleeping in My Clothes by Mandy Hurley
Other people have camped back there for entire summers too. They tell me stories at the bar about how this one time last year they had to use their knife to cut out the side of their tent because a black bear was clawing in at the door. I listened wide-eyed as they warned me I should sleep with a knife or maybe even a gun. Probably some bear mace too. I'd chug the rest of my pint and order another one, glancing sidelong at the door, where my flimsy tent loomed ominously in the perpetual summer dusk.
