So long as every strand of fur is counted with tears, the girl kneels upon the earth, staining her clothes. Her head bows low as she wraps her arms around the stone in the backyard. Our favorite place to throw and chase the ball. So long as the road carries me home in slow motion, a snail crawls across my heart. it does not tear it apart, yet every inch still aches. I know this was always the day we were bound to meet. How cruel of fate not to let us grow old together.