It was the middle of July. We were outside, under the stars in the back field, behind the stone wall. Nature seemed to run rampant there. There was the restless noise of the ever-moving trees. Crickets sang a chorus in the backround.

Truth be told, I couldn’t ever remember seeing stars so bright.

His lips gently grazed my own. Then he drew back, studying my face. It was a moment I’d been waiting for since before I could remember, but it all felt oddly familiar.

He kissed me again. We sat there quietly on the flannel blanket, the tips of our noses touching for a long moment.

And that’s when I knew.

I pulled away quickly, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. He looked at me anxciously.

“What is it?” he whispered, his large hand enfolding my small one.

My eyes darted from the perimeter of the woods and up to the sky, because even as I said it I knew what would come next. “I dreamed this,” I managed to whisper.

There was a blinding flash of light.

And then everything was black