we were standing around in a big city, you and i and a few other people we know. it was some sort of vacation. i hadn’t brought the right clothes. it was unseasonably cold, and we weren’t comfortable with enough with each other yet to huddle close against the wind. we held hands, loosely, as we walked the streets.

we turned a corner and suddenly the whole landscape was different. in the space between two towering skyscrapers, we looked out across a huge bridge over an even larger river. across the bridge, a dark and dense forest laid in wait.
“I’m not sure we should,” you said, haltingly, “it looks like we might get in trouble.”
squeezing your hand a bit tighter i said, “if they didn’t want us to go, there wouldn’t be a bridge.”

then the alarm woke up, and all that was left was your headband and a pile of laundry in my floor.