Snowflakes in August.

She looked up at the sky, brushing her hair out of her face. “It might snow,” she said, her summer dress gently whipping against her blazing skin. His mouth shriveled up into a crooked smile as he shook his head: “It’s August.”

Almost unnoticeably, she shrugged her shoulders as she cast her eyes down again, looking at him. “Do you love me?” she asked. He wrapped one confident arm around her sunkissed shoulders and whispered: “Yes.”

With agony across her face, she nodded: “It might definitely snow.” He snickered, gently pushing her away from him and cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Have you actually gone insane?” he made it sound as if she was the furthest thing from being his lover, a nutcase on the loose.

She looked at him with big, innocent eyes and a surprised twitch around her mouth. “Didn’t you say you love me?” she asked. He frowned, but nodded, slightly annoyed. She nodded back at him, taking a few steps back.

“If you can lie, why can’t I?” she asked.

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