Kira didn't answer, but sat quietly on the log, swinging her long legs back & forth. Ben thought that was OK by him. He relaxed, leaning a little closer to her small perfect form, and he could smell the delicate, intoxicating perfume of her hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled softly, deeply.

"Do you think it's true?" Kira asked suddenly. Ben opened his eyes and looked at her. She turned her head and slowly brought her sky blue eyes up to his.

"Is what true?" He asked, his voice cracking. His left hand trembled slightly in his lap, and he drew a long, shallow breath.

"What Grandma says. About the old ones." She paused, still looking into his eyes, her earnest little face more intent than he'd ever seen.

"Well, sure, I suppose so. Some of it. Not everything, I'm sure. Like that stuff about the Moon, that's just-"

"I think it's all true. I think it was just like she says. They flew through the air and had magic lamps that burned all night without getting hot and yelled over the horizen and always had all the food they wanted and they walked on the Moon." She looked down again and kicked at the dusty ground beneath the grass. Her voice became strained. "I hate them. I hate them."

Wordlessly, Ben picked up her hand and held it tightly.

"Dirty spoiled Moonwalkers, they used it all up. They used it all up and there's none left for us, and all they can do is talk about how wonderful it all was and make us believe in all the wonderful things that we'll never get to see and I hate them hate them hate them..." Her head drooped and Ben could see she was crying. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, and she leaned into his shoulder. He could feel the warm dampness seeping through the cloth of his shirt and the perfume of her hair was more vivid than ever before.