We ran through air so hot and heavy we could have been swimming. The grass was dry and it crunched beneath our feet.
The boys howled out, noise bleeding through the night. We tumbled down beside the electric pylon, lungs burning. Kristin sat with her brother before joining me.
“Lie down,” she whispered, her voice sweet and potent.
The grass itched at my neck. My heart pounded the earth. Stars flickered silently.
“Can you feel it?”
Her fingers touched mine as the southerly swept in. Wires swayed and heaved, thrumming songs born both within and away. An echo ahead of time.