By Marinna Guzy
The cicadas sang. The girl walked slowly down the dirt path. The fields on either side seemed to spread out for an eternity. She inhaled the sticky sweetness of grass pollen. The breeze blew past and she thought she could hear music. The girl paused, ears attuned for that haunting melody. Nothing. Sighing, she pressed further up the path. There was a tree in the distance: the only tall thing for miles. Underneath the comforting halo of shade, her fingers traced the outline of a heart. It was meant to be for forever, but here she was, all alone.