My feet leave incomplete tracks as I tread through the sand on the way back to the house. I try to wrap my arms around my body to keep out the cold but they are inadequate. Bugs swarm around a single light on the back porch that is leading me away from the lake. Before I enter the grass I stomp my foot into the ground, attempting to leave a complete mark.

I shudder as the ground returns the force into my heel, causing it to vibrate in retaliation. I pick my foot up quickly to see if it worked. It is a little to dark to see, but it looks like all but my pinky toe made the print. I sigh in annoyance and my chest tightens a little bit. I continue walking before the thought I've been avoiding makes it to the front of my brain.

I look at the bugs swarming around the light. I'm surprised that so many still make it to my skin for a nighttime snack. They don't concern themselves with the brightness and make time for the important things - my blood. I slap where I perceive the bugs to land, leaving a larger mark than they would have. If only I were closer to the light, maybe they'd leave me alone.

My walk is beginning to tire me, even though it is only a few yards in length. Every so often I pause to listen to the wind swaying the trees. They stand behind me, beckoning me towards the beach. A little while longer out here won't hurt, they say. I am tempted to return and sleep, but it is getting dark and I have to get back.

I force myself to pick up the pace, swatting at the bugs before they can reach me. I trip a few times on unseen holes in the ground, never fully falling down. This continues until I make it to the bottom of the porch and into the edges of the light. Bugs continue to swarm around it, but at least I've outpaced the ones trying to leech onto me.

I walk towards the light and feel relief that I managed to return to the house. The tightness in my chest releases and I move to walk through the door. Before I make it in, I look back at the expanse of the yard and see the faint glimmer of the moonlight on the lake. The thought catches up with me but I enter the house, unbothered.