Fall

I hadn't heard a word they said.

The phone was silent and I had no idea whether the conversation was over, the line had died, or they were waiting on me to answer a question. I should've known.

But there was this leaf.

It was shimmering on the tree outside the window, a solid breeze blowing it and every other leaf up and away from its branch, only to be snapped back by the strength of its taut stem. One leaf, but somehow, it caught and held my eye. In fact, I couldn't NOT see it. Like working until the duck in that picture turns into a rabbit, then struggling to see the duck again. There was only that leaf.

It was straining, torn by wind and stem. I couldn't say whether it yearned to stay or to break free. My eyes still fixed, I considered the relative merits--freedom or security, familiarity or
novelty.

Back and forth, the tree shook. Orange, amber, and pale green scattered as dozens of leaves followed the breeze. But mine--the one I could not release--it rattled on.

"Hello?"

My eyes shifted. Not long, but long enough.

"Still here," I said. "Just wondering if there's anywhere else to go."

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. "You scare me when
you're quiet so long. Seriously, I'm shaking like a leaf."

There was a tiny crunch as a single dash of brownish gold was pressed
against the window, them quickly spirited away.