The winds would slap mercilessly on our faces but we didn't cared. Maybe it was that. Or maybe it was your grip. I remember the anger being squeezed out of me, and you wouldn't let go.
Sometimes my eyes would fool me. The grass would appear soft and inviting. The flowers would turn into blurred white spots. Sometimes I thought we were running on clouds. Then I wasn't so scared if we did fall.
But you stopped. We stopped at the edge of the fields and looked down. We were so far away but we could see in perfect clarity everything that everyone was doing. From behind, you placed your hands on my shoulders as I cried.