The evening turned into night. We lay together in the field watching the sky. For once all the bugs were at a party somewhere and too busy to bother us. The stars came out and the moon rose pregnant red behind the trees. It looked ready to explode and shower us with the treasures it had collected as it grew.

As you lay in my arms, I felt as if it had.

“Look at the man in the moon,” you said, “He’s smiling at us.” I could never see him, but I could still feel the smile.

Today I walked past the trees alone. The grass was grey, and something bit me. I saw the man in the moon, but he wasn’t smiling.

The moon is flat, and I don’t love you.