Fires seem bigger on the beach. Ronan likes to imagine they’re burning the wreckage of a ship, that they are stranded somewhere far away.
The guy sitting across from him pulls out a guitar. He plays badly, but they find some Green Day tune to sing. “Could I try?” Ronan asks.
The second he touches the strings he gets swept, his hands moving on their own. He shuts his eyes and sings. He’s got a good voice.
When he stops, the others clap. Someone asks, “Wasn’t that by that dude? What was his name, Rourke?”
Ronan says he doesn’t know.