Treehouse.

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Amelia sat, restlessly on the park bench, watching the leaves dance in the breeze, but poised as if she wanted to jump up and run off at any moment. Beside her, Peter, although fidgeting with a small pebble, was completely still and seemed lost in thought. Their friendship was an odd mix of contrasts, with Amelia always buzzing with ideas, bursting to leap into action, like a mad woman with her arse on fire and Peter preferring quiet simplicity, stillness and silence.


"I didn't think of that," Peter mumbled, breaking the moment of comfortable quiet.


Amelia turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't think of what?"


Peter shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't think of bringing a picnic. I mean, we're in the park, and it's a beautiful day. A picnic would have been nice."


Amelia chuckled, "You never think about anything, do you?"


He looked at her with a hint of a smile, "Well, you think about everything, so I don't have to."


Although this banter was a routine, Peter nevertheless looked a little uncomfortable.


As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the surroundings, Amelia's mind wandered to a new idea. "What we need to do is build a treehouse Right here in this park. A secret hideaway for us."


Peter looked at her with a mix of surprise and amusement. Not to mention alarm. “A treehouse? Seriously?"


Amelia nodded enthusiastically, "Why not? It would be our little oasis, a place to escape from the world and just be. Then we could have a picnic whatever the weather.”


Peter couldn't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. "I didn't think of that,” he said, with just a touch of sarcasm.


Amelia nudged him playfully, "See? You're getting better at this thinking thing."


As weeks passed, the duo embarked on their treehouse project. Amelia brought the blueprints, sketches, and a myriad of ideas and directed Peter into handling the practicalities, measuring, hewing wood, sneaking stuff in from the DIY shop, legging it up and down ladders, lugging stuff about, roofing, glazing and so on. The treehouse became a tangible manifestation of their friendship, a quirky blend of dreams and pragmatism. And exhaustion, of course


One sunny afternoon it was all done. They sat on the creaky wooden floor of their completed treehouse, surrounded by the rustling leaves. "I didn't think it would turn out so well," Peter admitted, a genuine smile on his face.


Amelia grinned, "That's because you never think about anything."


He nudged her back, "Well, maybe I should start thinking more often,” he said, unfurling a large sleeping bag from his rucksack and spreading it onto the treehouse floor.


Amelia and Peter discovered that sometimes, the best ideas were born from the perfect blend of dreamers and realists. Oh, and having a decent sleeping bag to hand.

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