A realization that would bite them both in their late 20s.

They dated from grades 3 - 6, which certainly anyone would deem a substantial period of time for a kid.
Having fallen intensely in love on the playground (amidst a particularly heated game of Sharkie, a most intricate game played on monkey bars that is beyond the comprehension of anyone aged past 13) they solidified their union with a wedding in grade 4.

Presented with a pipe-cleaner ring during lunch recess on Tuesday, they were wed on Thursday (always a lady, she had needed time to consider) in a small, private ceremony underneath the intimidating Maple tree on the NE side of the track. The grass having been freshly mowed, its remnants were thrown enthusiastically at - not on, a notable difference - the couple as they raced across the field to their buses.

Their love affair heated up the playground (including, but not limited to; the Big Adventure, the Little Adventure, swingset, basketball court, and some more intimate "secret" spots that each generation of children attending this particular elementary school would "discover"). As each was the respected leader of their competing (yet united) gangs of boys vs. girls, a hot sense of competition arose when lesser couples sprang up. Though none would know what they were doing, aside from stealing kisses in line or by the swings - mostly for the reactions of shock and awe provided by their classmates - they DID agree on one thing. More or less mutually, even, they would determine that in the summer before grade 7, they were perhaps a touch too old for marriage.

Oopsie.

All class and poise,
Perpetually at ease with discomfort (his and hers), she turned.
The emphasis placed upon him by others only serves to choke and shrink the piece of heart she had given.
Every move she made was cold, calculated.
Every action planned.
Each smile she gives him now, each laugh she grants...
They will all be used when she fucking tears him apart.

Ironic that he should be the one advising her to cut losses.

He owed her nothing, yet somehow managed to deliver even less.
He would soon find she was no longer his convenience.

Today.

Is a classic case of the right song at the right time. Nothing else like it.

Each tear shed today was a bit more of my faith in you slipping away.
How dare you need, how dare you push.

Please, would you mind turning down the heat?

"This place was not made for two -- I turn it up to accommodate for the lack of a second body," he explained.
In response, she turned up the music. Neither needed to be reminded of the sound of heartbreak.