There were few flowers where we were laying on the grass. The air above us was warm and still, undisturbed by wind, and it carried the sun’s warmth onto our pale skins; onto our faces, and exposed hands. We were dressed too heavily for the weather above us—only tanning clothes would have been appropriate: I was dressed in my blue jeans, my white t-shirt and red hoodie. You were

You were beautiful. A pale blue shirt was resting loosely on your chest, with its top three buttons undone, and a long skirt was draped over your ragdolled legs. Your face was supine to the sky, and your eyes were closed, blocking out the sun. My face was dropped to the side, watching yours. Your lips were dressed in the stasis of tranquility, but they sprung to a smile when I dragged my hand onto yours. Your face fell over like mine, and we locked eyes; and our smiles connected, too.

There was little that could disrupt that moment, and for a little while there was nothing. Nothing in that grass, nothing in the world with enough disquiet to disturb our two youthful, careless hearts. I pondered the infinite, and thought I found it with you. I cannot say what your happiness was in that green field, laying with me by your side, but I knew your smile, and that was enough to put my heart at ease. We lay there, in that infinite field, and there was nothing else. There was nothing else in the world except for us, and it was a void happier than anything that could exist in its place.

We lay there indefinitely, thinking nothing, feeling everything. And only when the rainclouds came, and rained on our sunny day, did we get up from the muddy ground, and walk merrily away.

23.X.21