Memories of last night manifested slowly from the back of her brain, every new detail hammering her heart like a war drum: the flowers, the vodka, the persistent dream-like sensation, the closet, the outline of a stranger, the sex... and, most gut-wrenching of all, the sudden realization that he might still be here.

The search party became zombie silhouettes in shafts of early-morning light, yawning, despondent, and halfway home when a boy’s scream pierced the fog—“OVER HERE!”—and everybody ran.

She wondered if she was the only person trying not to imagine what death-by-bear looked like. Would bears pick the bones white? Or would they leave bits of meat for the coyotes to scavenge? The authorities hadn’t actually determined the type of animal that did the mauling, but she couldn’t help but picture a bear.

She wondered if she was the only person trying not to imagine what death-by-bear looked like. Would bears pick the bones white? Or would they leave bits of meat for the coyotes to scavenge? The authorities hadn’t actually determined the type of animal that did the mauling, but she couldn’t help but picture a bear.”