The wind blows

through her hair and mine.

My thumb rubs her shiny new ring in my pocket,

she eats her melting twist in a cone without a clue.

The time is right,

the sun is setting.

The lake reflects back on us,

the pink-sky smiles at our perfect moment.

I go for it,

nervously.

My knee presses on dirt and rocks,

painfully.

I stutter, she smiles,

she knows.

My stomach rumbles,

my ice cream exacts its revenge.

Not now,

a terrible time to be intolerant to lactose…

The wind blows,

but not from the sky…

The hot gas escapes,

traveling down my new jeans…

A fart? Now? Seriously?

She yells, throwing her ice cream down,

you just had to ruin our perfect moment.

Graphic created by Ian Saunders