The sun had gone down a while ago, but I still knew perfectly how to find him. Follow the water. And there was Pippin, sitting by the stream that was alive with frogs whose invisible chorus was like music. I could see his profile, silhouetted by the glowing amethyst sky.

Even by the water it was hot and humid, and his pristine shirt was halfway open and he was eating something. "Hullo, Merry love."

I sat down at his side. "Hullo. What's that?"

"Persimmon."

He held one forth, but I chose to smooch the sweetness directly from his sticky lips.