you knew there would always be the spring.

it’s a bright spring day, too perfect, the kind of day that lends itself well to being painted; the sky is blue and the clouds are white and puffy. you sit with her in a field of daisies, and the few buds that you crush under you are compensated for many times over by the miles of flowers before your eyes.

“i love you.” her eyes are warm and dark as she catches your hand in hers, interlaces your fingers.

“i love you, too,” you tell her. the words are rich swirled around your mouth.

“are you happy?” she asks.

you pause. “yes.” your voice barely even quavers with how much you want to mean it. “you make me happy.”

her eyes slip closed and she leans into your shoulder. “good,” she murmurs. she slips off into dreams and you are left to stare at the silken sky with her weight a constant warmth in your side.

soon you shut your eyes as well and let the sun wash over you and forget. why squander gold when you have it? you turn your face to feel the gentle breeze when it sees fit to come by. it is all so that you do not notice the beeping at first.

cold seizes you like a downpour and you startle awake. the field of flowers is only cold metal after all and you sit alone in a dim room. “session over,” intones a female voice, a cruel robotic parody of the gentleness she’d spoken with before. “please reinsert payment.”

your hands shake and you tell yourself it’s because of the drop in temperature as you fumble for your wallet. a few more coins, a few more moments - you won’t have dinner tonight but that’s okay, that’s nothing if you get another minute now. you barely manage to shove the money in the slot.

you close your eyes. you open them.

it’s a bright spring day, too perfect.