They took to their feet and ran out. In two straight lines they ran, eyes on something ahead. Her arms flipped him over in haste and she kissed him over and over, deeper, her mouth sinking into his like a messy fruit, her chest ready to burst. Their blonde hair turned to thick scarlet, their bodies cracked like clay. He locked her wild head into his forearms. For a long time they lay healing, night passed over them, and for days he held her down.

“That horizon is a trick, dear.” he said, “There is no end in sight.”