You climb the last few branches to reach the top of the canopy. As you poke your head over the crust of the forest, through the membrane of leaves, a light drizzle dampens your cheeks. You angle it upward to let the mist flow over your nose and neck. You see Sarah emerge a few metres away. You turn to face her, you meet eyes, and neither of you says anything, neither with your face nor with your mouth. But you both know. Sarah was always good at knowing. Sometimes you wondered if anyone else really ever knows. The fog and drizzle block anything further than about five metres around you. But you don’t need to see any further than that. You know.