I told him there wasn't a problem. That I wasn't crumbling into paper dust on the inside, and that the tiny pieces scratched under my skin like tiny little insects. If he hit me with his love I would burst into confetti. But he didn't need to know that, because then he would be able to see my pieces and never let them free, he would never set me free.

"Daisy, where's your helmet."

"I put it up there."

"Here, put it on."

"No."

"Daisy."

"Let me fall."

"What the fuck are you talking about." He touched my face like it was glass. Cracked glass.

"Nothing." Outside, the grass buzzed.

"Stay, I need to get something okay. Don't go anywhere" He left and so did I.