Dog Day was set to play a show in Philip's house in the woods. While people were drinking and smoking, it turned into a big event. There were a few big tents, one for the bands to park in and protect their gear if it rained, and one with a stage. KC's girlfriend's aunt and uncle showed up, making it a bit uncomfortable for him.

I searched and I searched, but I couldn't find you. You were there. We had been talking earlier. There were so many people around, but I felt so alone. It started to get cold out, so I found my suitcase and changed into some jeans. They were very tight. I went into another room and found my beer. Grabbed one. Seth told me he didn't think we were actually going to play. Everybody was having too much fun cuddling in the many beds watching movies we had with us, or smoking outside on the huge deck (the house didn't actually look anything like Philip's). That disappointed me, but I knew I could have fun anyway, if I found you. And then I did. You were snuggling with some other girl. I just turned around and left the room, making my way to the deck for another cigarette. I have no right to say anything; no right to be upset. I mean, we hadn't defined anything, so...

Once I got outside, it was raining. I cried a bit and told KC I wanted to go, if we weren't playing a set.

Dog Day played poker a bit. I didn't understand why everyone was so excited to see me (I was sitting near the door) until Seth explained that he could see everything through my jeans.

Later, we make the long drive home (which is strange since neither of us can drive in real life). I asked you if I could come over to your place to get my stuff. You seemed reluctant, but said OK.

Upon arriving to Halifax, I realized I left my suitcase and keyboard, so after some arguing, I convinced him to go back. Once we got there, Seth said it was good we came back. We are going to play now, and all the bands began unloading gear, in the rain. I tried, repeatedly to call you and apologize for being late and explain that we were back in New Brunswick and we were going to play a set. But for some reason, I just couldn't dial the number right. It was like my fingers were too big for the buttons.

The drive home was a strange one, involving many twists and turns through little paths in the woods and a version of the new bridge (which one is Macdonald and which one is MacKay?) that only exists in my dreams, but recurs in them often.