They lay next to each other, the soft tufts of grass itching the back of their necks, but neither of them wanted to move. They could feel the skin of the other's hand even though it was millimetres a part. They both thought of the sparks that might fly if they were to touch. And how they wouldn't be able to stop themselves.
"Look," one of them says. "An elephant." Their arm outstretches and points to a cloud that morphs in the upper atmosphere so that it looks like, from this angle, where they both lie, like an elephant. Flung in mid-swing is the white trunk and the ear flapping flies.
"It looks like Dumbo," the other says. "And he's flying."
"You know what I wish for?" And immediately they regret saying it. The thing they wish for is the gap between their fingers to be gone.
"Yes! Up there, with the clouds."
"We'd be able to hide."
Their eyes meet. It isn't right that they should think this way. They shouldn't need to hide. Certainly not amongst the clouds where only elephants disguised as clouds gallop.
Instead, they try to hide amongst the blades of grass, try to close the gap to the impossible.