There was a girl who loved a bear. Every day she met the bear in the forest, and they trampolined together.
The forest was deep and dark– exactly the type of place that threatened and frightened the girl. But the bear of course, being from the forest, didn’t feel frightened there at all. He loved the forest, and he liked trampolining with the girl. Meanwhile, she loved the bear (I mentioned that earlier) and she liked trampolining with him, but was afraid of the forest.
So you see, they each loved a different thing– he loved the forest, which she feared, whereas she loved the bear, who did not return her affection with the same intensity. But the thing they agreed on was trampolining: they both liked that equally. So they met and jumped together every day (as I already mentioned) and put up with the dissimilarities in the other areas.
To what avail did they trampoline together? Did doing so enable future alliances between humans and bears? Did their unheard-of habit bring them fame or even momentary popularity? The answer is no and no, because neither of them told a single soul about their trampolining.
Did their trampolining strengthen their hearts and improve their complexions? Perhaps. But that is not why they did it, not completely.
Mostly I think it was because at that precarious moment when they were both suspended in the air at the same time, they were more connected to each other than either of them ever was to anyone else in their regular, disparate lives.