On Friday I lay under the leaves of a sun-blanched tree with Chrispy, listening to a plane fly over head again and again, and the susurrous through the tree's branches, and thinking of how you'd ever know if you really truly love someone.
The light was bright and so I put two leaves over my eyes in place of my sunglasses, and peeked at out of a hole in one of them.
I thought of the woman I had seen shouting and crying and shouting and crying into space in a pavilion that morning and wished I had gathered my courage and gone up to her and given her a hug.
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