It was 2 o’clock. The sky was bright. The leaves lime, golden, russet brown. Everything was a mess. Twiggy, knotted, dying, living. Beautiful, but barren. Winter was upon us. December drew close.

The wind whipped my cheek. It felt hot. My nose was cold. I rushed here to meet him. My feet darted, though my heart dragged behind. If I didn’t tell him now, I never would. He had a right to know before he went out and bought me a Christmas gift I might never be able to open.

A twig snapped.

“Sarah? Someone call an ambulance!”


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