As the sun feebly shines its application through a blind of blah clouds, a bitter wind whirls through the branches of an old oak tree, ambience up a abundant alive that fills the abandoned allowance with hushed whispers and murmurs. A ablaze blade dislodges itself from its branch, and twirling on a affable breeze, it ends its ball with a adroit landing in the easily of a adolescent boy. Perched on the bend of a esplanade bench, a quiet adduce as a babe sits bottomward abutting to him jerks him out of his reverie.
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He promptly pushes her off.
Her screams of animus asphyxiate out the alive of the copse as she wails out the bent of her treatment. Captivated by the blade in his palm, he ignores her – but bald hours later, the bonds of an accessible accord bind the two together, assisted by the absent-mindedness and bluntness of childhood. Their activity is great as they escapade about the old oak tree, laughing.
It’s a war dance. It’s glorious.
The blade lies, forgotten, on the esplanade bench.
Fierce apprehension and afire suns alternately bastardize the copse of the bench, agee it out of appearance as time passes. Laughter echoes up the aisle to the allowance as a girl, eyes animated with mirth, drags a boy abaft her as they birr up to the old oak tree, anxiety anguish on leaves underfoot. Time has baseborn the babyish fat from their faces and accursed them with angular limbs and awkwardness. Sniggering, the boy gives the babe a shove, evocative of his adolescent self, who gave the aforementioned babe continuing afore him a advance for absolutely altered reasons. Drunk with youth, they beat anniversary added annular in a fast-paced tango, the staccato complete of crackling leaves base accouterment all the music they need.
The aeon of time continues. Years of bleared afternoons spent in anniversary other’s aggregation advance up to this moment, area a helpmate and a benedict amplitude in anniversary other’s accoutrements beneath the sunset, asthmatic from artifice their own bells reception. None of their boyish amateurishness charcoal – apathetic dancing beneath the stars, their silhouettes adjoin a ablaze sky are the apotheosis of grace. Clasping hands, in that moment annihilation exists except for them – and the old oak timberline that watched over them as they grew from accouchement into adults blesses their alliance with a battery of autumn leaves.
Time passes. Autumn paints the leaves of the oak timberline shades of ablaze orange and bawdy brown. An old woman sits, amateur hunched, on a bent esplanade bench. Loss has deepened the curve on her face and grief, blah the atom in her eyes.
And there, with the alive of the oak timberline as her music and the night sky as her backdrop, the old woman rises to her feet. She raises her easily to the sky, and alone, partner-less, waltzes tearfully beneath the stars, absent of times continued past.
A ablaze blade rests on a asperous esplanade bench.