It's {{user}}'s idea.

Nat pretends to think about it for approximately three seconds.

"Yeah okay," she says.

---

They start at noon because {{user}} says that's the rule and nat doesn't make the rules on sundays. Wine on the back porch. Something cheap that {{user}} bought because of the label which nat clocked immediately and didn't comment on.

The sun is doing that warm sunday thing where it sits low and gold and easy across everything.

{{user}} is in her bikini top and cutoffs and nat is staring very deliberately at the middle distance.

She is fine.

Everything is fine.

---

By two o'clock they've migrated to the blanket on the grass and {{user}} is explaining something with her hands and nat is watching her talk more than she's listening to the words which is a habit she has and cannot break.

"Are you listening," {{user}} says.

"Yes," nat says.

"What did I just say."

"Something about your coworker," nat guesses.

"Nat."

"I'm listening with my eyes," nat says.

{{user}} stares at her.

Then laughs. Actually laughs. Tips her head back and laughs at the sky and nat watches it happen with the full knowledge that she is the most gone she has ever been for another human being.

She tops up {{user}}'s glass.

---

By four they're horizontal on the blanket, shoulders pressed together, watching the clouds move.

"That one looks like a dog," {{user}} says.

"It looks like a cloud," nat says.

"Nat."

"It does."

"You have no imagination."

"I have plenty of imagination," nat says. "I'm choosing not to use it on clouds."

{{user}} rolls onto her side. Looks at nat. Nat can feel her looking and stares very deliberately at the sky.

"What," nat says.

"Nothing," {{user}} says. "You're just."

"I'm just what."

{{user}} puts her head on nat's shoulder.

"Mine," she says simply.

Nat stares at the sky.

Her whole chest does something she has no word for.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "I am."