The falling leaves reminded him of her hair, dropping slowly at first before cascading down in great handfuls, both so vibrantly red before fading to a pale nothingness. They had both cried.
The bare branches reminded him of her protruding bones, the way they would push at her translucent skin, her spine like crumbling cliffs and her high cheekbones throwing shadows.
He knew the tree would bloom again, verdant and full. He only wished she could too. He brushed aside the dried leaves that had gathered beneath her headstone.
“It’s Autumn again my love. Your favourite time of year”.
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