The sun was setting directly upon us. Shades of orange and yellow had begun to pierce the sky, once the reflection of our pale green eyes. The three of us, innocent enough to the outside world, had transcended to a dire realm. Leaping from each patch of grass to the other, we playfully avoided the dirt and sand which had been distorted in our minds to become wonderfully dangerous amounts of fire or lava. Dizzy, we frantically giggled our way to certain, imagined safety. Two of us boy, and one of us girl, all of us together were complete. With leaps and bounds around each other, ceaseless spinning began to pour into a hazy tornado of ourselves. Through the whirlwind of confusion, all that was visible was her hair. A briar bush of tangled, rich brown locks a glow with the aftermath of what the day had been. A careless blanket of carefree curls all ablaze with the setting sun, twirling all around a giving, blithe toothy grin. Three forgotten, uncared for smiles dancing without precision, all gleam with the pureness of happenstance and the ignorance of an impending future. On the wind a foreboding cry is carried. A siren pushes faster towards us with fingers outstretched for our open hearts. Familiarity wins, as we callously grab dirty identical hands and fling into a delicate circle. An army of infants can be heard in the distance, proudly displaying a war cry. Utterly unaware, we three almost angels continue the quest for exhaustion, and the idea of present purpose.