Matt squinted up to the sky, held his arms out, and let out a maniacal laugh. “I got a piece of—”

A safe dropped on his head. At least that’s what he thought it felt like. Then there was nothing except blackness.

In his dreams a naked woman stepped into the orchard from the vegetation, her slender, pale legs contrasting with the organic hues of grass and trees. Unable to move, he stood and watched, a faint whimper escaping his lips. She was beautiful, with long, blonde hair and full lips. She gazed at him, her black pupils at first frightening. But soon his fright morphed into lust. Music chimed in his head—music from a far off time, not of this place. It sounded like a reverbed flute. Goose bumps peppered his limbs and a pleasing shock spidered up his back and burst gently in his mind. He took a deep breath and noticed his pulse in his neck.

The woman held out a finger to him, her bosom heaving. All at once he realized it was Stacey, or a very close approximation. In dreams, mannerisms and physical attributes never quite duplicated real life people.

“Come,” she said. “I am your friend, am I not Matthew?” She smiled at him, her lips slightly parted and ticking up at the sides.

What about my plans? he thought. What plans? All he wanted to do was screw the hell out of Stacey. This was now his sole purpose in life. He didn’t want to think about the funeral or all that other negative bullshit. He wanted to run to her and fuck her while pulling her hair amongst the bracken fern and leafy ground, elbows and knees and skin stained with dirt and debris as they rolled. Not only did he want to fuck her, he wanted Stacey to have his kids. He wanted to lay with her in the orchard at night and watch the stars, naked, only gathering their warmth from each other.

At last he was able to stumble towards her, his hands and legs trembling.

“Aw, you’re adorable,” Stacey said, smirking. “I want you to follow me. If you follow me you can have me, Matthew.” She turned her back to him, but not before throwing a sidelong glance and smile, her blonde hair stopping shy of the small of her back. Matt felt like a bear approaching its mate. The woods, these woods had a hell of a way of cutting out the bullshit and getting right down to the evolutionary grit. Procreation. Reproduction. Fucking. After all, it might be a hard winter. You might not survive. And you better sow your fucking seed before mother nature punches your card, son.