Our legs buckled, and like rag dolls, we collapsed upon the grassy slope, tumbling revolution after revolution; our laughter making sound spirals that drifted among the arbor leaves. With the greatest of passionate vigor, our helices caroused with the birds and the fruit, which, precariously swayed from the branches to which they held clung.

Our eyes agape, we rolled to a terminal stop - so bright was the sun above, but we didn't dare squint; every curve, every complexion, and every surface was kept alive by an argus-eyed stare.

I blinked first, and I'm sorry - the clouds then came, and the sun dimmed; the grass became bristly rough, and rent the pores of our skin; the fruit rotted quickly, and the birds asphyxiated under the stifling fumes. All grew dead. All grew quiet. And we both just laid there in tears.

We didn't know how fragile our world had become.