April was wearing a polka-dot scarf at the picnic where she fell in love. She untied the scarf and swirled it in the air to announce her joy to the world but the linen got entangled in a tree, the loose end soaring like a balloon tied to a mailbox. She turned to call her new love for help—an excuse to talk—but found him gazing away, wistfully at another girl. To rescue her scarf, April stood on a plastic chair and yanked at the cloth. A rip left some polka dots quivering on the tree, others flattening like misshapen hearts in her palm.
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