There's only so much time. A finite window of opportunity. Just a few years pass and you've missed the boat forever. Here, no one dares to tend the barren hen-pecked ground. Sun-scorched, and drenched in dust so desperately. Under the surface, the once lush crops have all drooped and withered on the yellowing vine. Here, you could go to bed with a grape and wake up with a sultana.
She smiles at you on her way down the bell curve. But how much love is there left to give? I look away from her, turning my eyes to my watch. There's just not enough time left for us.