“Your name is Tree? What’s that short for?”
His shoulders sank. He thought of his parents on their allotment, discussing natural fertilisers and the fact that humans had long since negated their right to live on such a beautiful earth.
“Nothing. It’s just Tree.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He waited for the jokes about knots and branches and the more crude ones about logs. But instead she smiled, showing all of her teeth at once.
“That’s awesome. I wanted to be called River growing up.”
“That would have made us quite the formidable pair. What are you actually called?”
She grinned. “Hazel.”
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