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Isn’t it something?

Sun is on the grass.

Isn’t it?

The grass is nice and warm.

Have we ever been to a sunny lakeside in the middle of some time, in the middle of some place, in the middle of... Have we ever ridden a bike together before, wind caressing my sideburns, wind rustling your arm hair and tugging your Rapunzel hair, one of us holding an ice-cream cone only for a big gust to swipe it and… Have we ever seen winter pile over the street so much so that the neighbourhood’s windows are white walls, the pond through the trees frozen over, the memorial bench (dedicated to someone whose plaque is fading) being damp—and, on the pavement, empty drink cans and decade-old shopping receipts, and the sky’d be clear, our fingers’d be stinging red, and there’d be no green grass but plenty of dead grass, no kids playing with a football on the main road, (and no cars) no people in the whole town other than us, the sun beating, and yet the sun’d be cold as… Have we ever…

Winter needs to get here sooner.

Autumn is a couple months around the corner. You got spare clothes at home? You’re right sweating through your shirt. I can see the scar on your waist.

Dot, dot, dot…

Did you tell them?

Tell them…?

Chicken nuggets.

Yeah.

Did you?

Do you see me holding any?

No.

I ate them all.

Chicken nuggets?

Yeah.