“What do you think of the world?” he asked.
“I’d rather not,” she responded plain.
“I agree.”
The leaves were turning and shone on the fence and tree lines framing parceled fields not yet consolidated into corporate tracts.
“It is a beautiful fall,” he spoke in reverence to the charm. “I hope the spring returns. I believe it will—the next one…After that, I don’t know…”
A cold wind blew, unnerving and leaving chill: coincidence in time or portending of things to come.