Thanks to Pink Jover for the two next prompt ideas. :)
They say that relationships between people who are in different seasons of their lives are bound to end in misery. They're usually right.
The only problem with that affirmation is that they usually measure the seasons by the age. If that was the case, Allison and I would both be considered to be in Summer.
She really is, but I'm not. I am already in Autumn. Every tremor I feel, every time I drop something, every time I forget something is like a leaf that falls from the tree that represents my life.
And now I understand exactly why they also call it 'Fall'; it's not only because of the actual leaves that come down from the branches. It's because, once they have all fallen down, it means that the real fall, the real decay that is Winter has arrived.
And I wonder just how many leaves I have left.