Willy Warren Wallaby was back at it: feedin' his horses and rakin' his field in anticipation of the farming season. It was any other day, but he felt kinda funny like he'd felt sometime before, but for the life of him couldn't remember when. Willy, slow as ever, was in the middle of reckoning it was nothin' when Bess, the pretty girl down the road, came a-knockin' on his door. Oh, gee, he thought as he went to answer her, what's Bess doin' knockin' on my door?

"Oh, Willy, I was afraid you wasn't home! I was thinkin', I got this funny feelin' in my belly, and I reckon I've felt it before. Why, it's just the same as when the river flooded how-many years ago!"

"Bess, you're so smart! I was thinkin' nothin' of it, but you're right! We best go check the river."

And to the river they went.

Before Willy and Bess came halfway to the river, they felt a certain feeling and smelled a certain smell. One they had felt and smelled how-many years ago in this same town, at this same evening time. The Indus's water crept its way to them in disguise, beneath the giddiness of newfound love and desire. Simple people, Willy and Bess died holding hands, drowned in the water of a river that they had played in as children. The rest of the town died with them on that day, together but apart in a strange way. It was almost lucky Bess had recognized that funny feelin' in her belly, but everything comes too late.