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!”
Helen and cliff enjoyed the simple things in life. They woke at six every morning, read the newspaper with their breakfast, kissed each other on the cheek before leaving for work, met up for lunch in the park, the same spot as always, ate dinner together and caught up on their day, and then after reading a book or watching the television they would retire to bed. A life such as this to one eye could seem mundane, a rut they had built themselves over the years in their marriage. However, Helen and Cliff were the happiest they had been in a long time. They didn’t demand much from each other, all that they asked for was love. At times they would squabble over the washing up or the wet towels discarded on the bathroom floor, but it would only take them minutes to make up. They had gone through hardships in their lives; raised children, handled teenagers, wept at the departing adults their babies had become. Then it was just them two. They realised that before the children, they had always been just ‘them two’ and they had enjoyed every moment of it. Their love grew , staying simple, but brightening with colour.