It was two o’clock. The sky was bright. The leaves lime, golden, russet brown. Everything was a mess. Twiggy, knotted, dying, living. Beautiful yet barren. Winter was approaching. December drew close.
The wind whipped my hot cheek as I stood under the spidery tree. My nose was cold. I ran to meet him here, my feet darting, my heart dragging behind. I asked to meet him here, though I wish I hadn’t. But if I didn’t tell him now, I never would. He had a right to know before he went out and bought me a Christmas gift I might never be able to open.
A twig snapped.
‘Sarah? Someone call an ambulance!’