Breaking through the blackthorn shrub, her skirt caught on a branch, and she fell, dragging me down too. Entangled, we lay there, laughing and staring up at the bright, burning red sky above. Through the dense shrubbery, I briefly saw a plump of geese soaring high. "They must’ve heard the gunshot," I thought, my heart still racing from all that running. Lying there on my back, I turned to face her, to tell her that I’d fallen for her long before we lay together in a blackthorn shrub; long before she let me into her father’s house, before we almost kissed that time last summer, when we drove all night just to watch that meteor shower. And I was going to tell her—I really was. But as I opened my mouth to say it, I spied the farmer creeping towards us through the shrubbery. So, I grabbed her arm instead, and we made another run for it.