The wind blew cold, a telling sign of the winter soon to set in as the warm days of September were coming to an end. On the lawn, the leaves piled up as they fell freely from the trees, swaths of auburn, yellow and brown covering up the dusky greens of the grass as it too faded to a blanched brown with the coolness of the nights – despite the fact that the sunlight hours were still quite warm. In the half-dozen or so trees that bordered the whitewashed fence, as much fruit still hung heavily in the branches as littered the lawn; sticky, squishy little pools of rotting muck to get caught in the treads of your shoes like the offal from the dog.
#Short Story
