Alice

Amelle watched as the leaves – the layers of elongated triangles, red and golden – from the maple tree floated away, caught by their crisp lightness in the wind, and were carried into the waterfall. A time of wonderment existed prior to that Sunday unknown; the clouds, bright and glorious, iridescent spans of a crystal sea, matched the euphoria in her conclusion and the air, hot and sticky with humidity, that had refreshed her hopes like a summer rain, illuminated a truth. She knew it; nothing – even the negative test results – could deny what she felt. The waterfall gave a tiger’s roar for her sake – loud and guarding.

The crevices of the leaves filled with the current, pulling them swiftly to the rock bank and beyond for some. Amelle sighed as she watched the sight; nothing compared to the precious thing she knew. She leaned back against the maple tree and fell asleep while the leaves continued to die.