I can't quite remember the circumstances. I remember getting off at the wrong stop and walking what felt like miles in the mid-day, dead heat of summer. I remember Amalie's ocean eyes. I remember hiding in the bushes, shielding locks of blonde hair wrapped in curlers. I remember the big tree, slumped as if it were ready to lay. I remember the snowy mammoth hound. I remember a row of trees with its flowers sprinkling the path beneath it. I remember conversations in the car over soggy nachos.

It was one of those shoots.