In the end the choices were all conventional. They floated apart like dandelion seeds, marriage mortgage children, make a wish.
They had talked of pooling money to 'get on top of the system' but it crashed over each of them like a wave and after a while they didn't come back up.
It's hard to build a raft if you keep the water level just high enough—knock them off their feet, keep them reaching.
Dreams drift over the horizon, pink clouds fade to navy blue. A silver moon rises over opaque waters and the warm gold lights of houses are very far away now.
Tara Wheeler lives in Cambridge and can often be found on a bike with a singing toddler, or on Twitter @WheelerTara.