❝The dark silence of English villages in autumn, the barest sound of leaves fluttering to the ground and the last wasps sucking out the inside of the last plums, and mysteries in the depths beyond the gloom.❞
A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down. It shook slightly, as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of an icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course. It blew past my face and landed lightly on the ground, the shiny, vibrant colour standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it. It was so delicate, I wanted to reach down and pick it up and hold it close to my heart, smoothing out any creases, but something told me that it belonged there, this corpse of what was once summer.
