In the middle of a field, a tree stood, scorched and bent, surrounded by ripe wheat. “It isn’t working out” she said. He turned, didn’t want to say anything. What she said was true, and anything he did say would hasten the end. The day had showed potential, but now all thoughts turned to closure, the move out and the move on. The relationship was a garment that hadn’t fit either of them properly, but had kept them warm, kept the rain off – for a while…
