He thought winning made the world a better place and the snow slightly sparklier.
She thought healing people was the ultimate challenge for a broken heart. Being beautiful didn't hurt.
Even the sunglasses couldn't hide them from each other.
They celebrated their discoveries.
They agreed on being the best and the strange enchantment of American dreams. When her mother died, there wasn't much to moor them.
They held hands and ran fast, far, leaving a baby behind as a souvenir.
The baby grew like a weed, thriving in the in-between places, the soft wedges called steps.
They called her "Bunfla" and named her after a ghost.
Running requires leaving the ghosts behind and agreeing to be haunted.
