So I laid there laughing and laughing, until I took pity on Theo and kicked him in the groin. When he doubled over and moaned once again, I scrambled out of bed and fled toward the fields.
Sweat and blood followed me into the corn, and I brushed past the rows and rows of fruitless stalks, feeling almost at once the patter of rain upon my head and shoulders.
I laid down between the rows of the growing mud and wept for Theo. I wept for the shallow bed of dust and vegetation we had called our home. But most of all, I wept because I bled the blood of a fallow field.