I was eating dinner in the living room, sprawled across an armchair, and the gentle breeze gave life to two tiny styrofoam balls lying on the floor near the piano. One was green, and the other yellow, and they were soon darting about in wide arcs across the floor; now together, now apart, but the wind kept them moving in the same direction. Every now and then they would return to that wait-ful state, relaxing together, and I was just thinking these pleasant thoughts when the breeze blew their way again; this time, though, the green one danced away seemingly unaware that the other was sitting very still behind it.
It remained where it was for a bit, watching its friend as she came to a slow stop far away, further away than they ever had been. It seemed so sad, even though (I reminded myself) there probably had been a time, perhaps not too long ago, when they hadn’t known each other. But before I could dwell on this too long they were tumbling toward each other in increasingly narrowing spirals and then they were off again.