The light was failing. I walked faster, pulled my coat up around my neck.
It looked like a leaf. Yellowed and curled on the edges, the letter fluttered in the afternoon wind; mixed with the amber avalanche of fallen leaves on the path.
“Judith, it said, My time here is done. Look for me in the fall, I’ll be waiting at our spot. ”
I looked up the path, half expecting to see Judith and the writer of the note locked in an embrace. The quiet was heavy in my ears. The trees seemed to close in, muffling the sound except for an impatient rustling and swirling of leaves settling down to the forest floor.
“She didn’t come.” I thought. “But still he waits.”
Walking on, I can see the first green tips of crocus beginning to push through the leaves; sharp fingers like bones reaching up through the earth.