Lily’s eyes strained to take in all the beauty at once.

            Beneath the night sky, by the grace of the light from a silvery full moon, she watched tall, lush blades of grass sway at the whim of gusts of wind. Waves rippled through the vast sea of deep green until they crashed into the edge of the horizon. The constant crashing set row after row of tiny stars in the darkness twinkling and dying out.

            She couldn’t remember how they’d gotten to the field or even where it was, but she laid her body against the cool ground and felt the same gusts of wind that shaped the grass roll over her tired body. She wanted the gusts to shape and form her according to their will, just as they had the once still blanket of overgrown grass. Minutes passed, and nothing happened. Her clothes ruffled and tugged, but her body remained the same. She’d hoped to be lifted off the ground in some extravagant movement, to finally be free and able to fly by the sheer will of God with no explanation or need of one. But her body stayed against the cold ground, the gusts staying gentle and uneventful.  

            Footsteps shuffled through the grass around her lifeless body, but Lily didn’t move, barely breathing. She knew the sound of Peter’s steps, the crushing of grass beneath his worn tennis shoes. Silently, she waited for him to fall upon her.

            And fall he did, bracing himself with his strong arms, one on each side of her head, and they laughed together at his clumsiness. During her bliss, Lily thought it strange that Peter’s shoe buried in her side hadn’t hurt. But the curiosity faded quickly. They’d come to enjoy themselves, and the universe had spared no magic in the field beneath the flickering night sky.

            Peter’s lips rested on Lily’s mouth, not kissing her fully, but holding and savoring. His shaking arms held him for the moment above her. “I’m in love with you,” he pulled away to look into her deep black eyes.