They collapse, and she falls.

And sometimes somewhere in the middle of long stalks of spiteful weeds and tilted cement we find something that we thought we had lost. Floating along the lines of questions and confusion, she finds herself in a place familiar. Familiar because when she stands there time lets her know that he will not wait for her, a feeling ever so similar to a halted beat. Because suddenly a peculiar realization surfaces, one that is mixed with a dizzy cloud of the past and fictional memories. It is painful. The seeded fruits wilt to its side while the toes of children remain shoeless, unprotected and unsafe.

Then the wind decides to whisper so she dreams. The pathway seems to narrow itself, slicing the wind as it tries to escape. The walled windows gray from the miserable air of contempt and regret seem to stand upon itself in order to find what little light the surroundings had left. The smiles that remain in the small town are but of the echoes of children, too naive to realize that they soon will be unable to find that place of ease that currently filled them.