“Where do you think dreams go after we dream ‘em?” Amelia posed, climbing up high into the oak tree in the back yard.

“Well, I dunno,” Christopher answered lazily, laying on his back underneath the tree. He stared up into the sky. “Maybe they turn into clouds?”

Amelia shook her head, shaking the branch and making the leaves rustle. “Naw. I think maybe the grow into trees!” She swung herself up into a sitting position and the branch sagged under her weight.

“Trees? Why would they be trees?” Christopher answered, a wrinkle of confusion forming between his eyebrows, sure that his answer was better.

“Well.” Pause. “Because.”

“Because you don’t know!” Chris accused.

“Yeah huh!” Amelia turned around to face him, and in doing so added more pressure to the thin branch she sat on. There was a loud snap! as something important gave way, and a scream as Amelia plumetted to the ground.

Then there was nothing.

Christopher poked her arm, which was bent at an unnatural angle, but nothing moved.

He began to cry.