The grass reached out to us from the dirt, trying to stop us for one second, maybe to warn us. Maybe if we had just slowed down, the crunching grass and laughter would have been replaced with a message from the howling wind: we should not have been there together. But when you pulled me down into the rain soaked ground and kissed me, any possible alerts would have been ignored. You were kissing me, and everything sounded like music.
