Synopsis
The leaves have fallen, and I know spring is coming. But by then, it won't be my season anymore. The last of the sun's light pushes through the window, Rosy clouds gathering into a shape that shouldn't make sense but does — They say when someone dies, their spirit passes over the world one more time, Takes one last look at everything they're leaving behind… — March 5th, 2002. He ran into my house wearing a white shirt with frayed sleeves and a pair of worn ash grey trousers. It was evening. The setting sun came through the window at…
