This is a love story. It’s hands that smell of Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue after days spent clutching fistfulls of her hair. It’s the rain hitting the earth in a way that reminds you of blood, that makes you think the world's holding a knife to your underwear. It’s the spins. It’s running out of air because you gulped too much of it while you were sobbing. It’s waking up hot and sticky. It’s desperately falling in love with your best friend inside a camping tent while everything outside rages. In Victoria Lynne Barclay’s Camping, Brit and Ari collide over and over again, reaching for each other across the fractures that are born of time and distance. Three decades. One tent. A million things left unsaid.