The lovers sit on a bench as swans fly overhead… an unusual sight.
“Do you believe in signs?” asks Fleur.
Pierre nods. “Oui, those swans are our love.”
Crackle.
A Sudden flash in the sunny sky.
Lightning has struck one of the birds.
It plummets.
It thuds at the lovers’ feet.
There’s not a cloud in the sky.
“You know,” says Fleur, hopping over the bench, away from the smoking bird. “I don’t believe in signs.”
Pierre agrees.
Hand in hand, they run for the car, praying their love won’t be smited.
