If the Leaves Don't Kick Up

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A cunningly subtle worry nestles itself between your unknowingly clenched teeth during a unique period of the day some may recognise. Your separation. It’s a moment when your restless brain decides to climb out of its nest to sit atop in order to spectate. But the oddity is that it has this desire when the conditions are nothing short of mundane. When simplicity begins to seem trivial. When the rudimentary flirts with an open void.

We have this belief that we live in the same space. Occupy the same air. That the sun you watch has no material difference when it decides to glaze another part of the world at another point in time. We think the wind tickles behind our ears with the same particles. That if we are able to see each other we happen to also be looking at each other.

But there is a small crease right around the corner. It’s easy to miss if you search for it, but when you’re not looking it can envelope you into a dimension unknown. You see the same things. In fact to the naked eye nothing has changed. But you and those to your left and right are galaxies apart. There’s a seductive draw for wanting to drown ourselves in a happiness. A desire to relinquish desire in hopes of injecting our cheeks with mirth and our eyes with all the glistening sparkles one could only paint. But at its root, the simple thing we truly want is to slip into that crease.

Two cars are speeding around a bend. It’s mid autumn. The leaves have begun to devolve from green leather into golden brown paper mache. Creating a symphony of Shifting crackling sounds on the cooled asphalt deep into the idyllic suburb. The oranges and reds melt the eyes whilst the smell of pumpkin tickles the nose as dominant waves of warming nostalgia blanket you into your deepest memories. The two pricy suvs turn through this bend fully expecting to be ever closer to their falling homes.

The first takes the bend and they narrowly miss the slip. They stay rooted in this world. Eyes glued to the monotonous street ahead. Thinking only of their destination.

But the fate of the second auto was at the mercy of their own innocence, for when they took the bend they found their way straight through. Same turn. Same sky. Same fading evening light illuminating the October backdrop. Only this time, through the slip they went. And on the other side they could see it. What few others could see.

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They could see the leaves kicking up in the wind. They could hear that calming sound of light scratches and subtle crunches. The playful taps of leaves that dared to frolic with the windshield as more decided to dance up into the slight breeze. As the car whipped by greeting the fallen leaves. That had only a desire which was to respond with a ceremony Only a few could see. It may not even be worth it if the leaves don’t kick up. Because then how would you know you’re there?

Two will take a corner. Two will take a bend. Two will cross the threshold of a door. And two will share a glare. But one will assume the other is there. And the other will be light years away.

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