You pull me close. The words you said to me,
“I’ll love you always and forever, this was truly meant to be,”
I promise, will never leave me Augustus.
But as I close my eyes the intensity is extreme.
I awoke myself to find – you were only just a dream.
My story centers around the start of a blistering autumn season. During the closing days of Americas fourth civil war. Which also ended World War Three. Leaving half the world in flames.
In that time I saw like any other year in peace time the tree leaves around downtown Manhattan appear on the verge of falling. Yet, no matter how hard the breeze beckoned, the sugar maple leaves refused to part. Even the ones with the faintest of grips rejected nature’s wind. After a few uneventful weeks in my life, I began to see this was turning into a puzzling wonder. Whatever part of the city I found my self in the leaves never gave in.
From Monday through Friday I worked at a tiny coffee shop. Called The Businessmen Café. Sandwiched in the middle of two skyscrapers on the east side of lower downtown Manhattan. Not knowing where my life would go. I, like the half million inhabitants left in this open-air prison. Stay at our jobs even though we all hated each second of it. Stuck in a routine waiting for the wars end. But with our country recovering form years of civil war. Where would we go when it is all said and done? This could well be the last city in America.
So wishing to ignore the reality of my day. i chose a glass window at my job as my television screen since television was a thing of the past. In just eight years the world went back to a pre industrial age. i pretend to keep my days like the old days. by observing this seasons natural cycle. it starts with a seed planted. it grows into a big tree some time later, the trees branches flush with lefty greens for two seasons, spring and summer. Then the tree sheds in winter and in the spring and summer they flush bright in their best colors again. And the circle repeats. When fall comes the once colorful branches look whither and bare. New york city has all four seasons and is notorious for extreme weather. The wind here is especially terrible. Throwing everything around. Trash, food, dirt and leaves.
I saw this autumn season stand tall. As if the entire ecosystem wrestled against what turned into Manhattans harshest wind in decades. Another wonder I saw stand out to me were these blossoming trees clothed in heavy brownish shaded leaves. Six in all they seemed to give off a magnetic pull to me. An ominous white bird hovered over them eight times. “Kraa! Kraa, kraa.” the bird shouted over head. I embraced the closest one to my line of site. Each time l gaze at it. I felt the trees energy. This trees personal battle againt the gust of heavy winds became my own personal escape away from the end of civilization. Each day after the first day I never saw the white bird fly over again. Was it a raven?
One windly morning as I walk to work passing central park. I became more stumped by the leaves refusing to fly free. While they took their thrashing by brutal gale winds. I could not help but be swept away by them. While the freezing wind shut my eyes. I wonder if life has the same circle. Yet, The wonder and beauty of all the heavy crowns of yellow, orange and auburns became an obsession of mine. I spent my time on my way to work studying each distinct foliage’s position after the winds stop. Looking for any fallen ones on the sidewalk.
I saw none.
The idea of hundreds of leaves falling everywhere brought excitement to Manhattan for me. since the end of the civil war. the city has lost its magic. Honestly, all the thrill and wonder in my life was happening outside the glass door. And everything wrong with my life was right here. A place I spent most of my adult life in. working for no pay.
When my stare became interrupted by the conquerors; soldiers yapping away their orders for plain old coffee. My thirsty childlike mind never abandoned the hypnotic tree outside the window. With all his illustrious leaves hanging on just for me.
On the more unbearable days. I pictured rainbow-colored leaves of all shapes and sizes decorating the stony city sidewalk. Sprinkling down, a multicolored trail, all the way back to my box of a studio.
“What a gay walk it might be, if all the leaves would fall just for me,”After I sighed, I went on working to lose myself on another day for another excuse on why i couldn’t be payed.
it was now friday and my work week was coming to an end. None of my leaves have fallen to the floor, or on any park benches nor sweeping through the air following the wind gusts. I began to think mother nature was suspending their tumble. Keeping my workdays motivating. To see the brighter side of my life. Yet, it was my last day before my usual drunken weekends with friends. And I couldn’t help but be anxious at the thought of all my leaves outside falling without me.
The question unsettled me, as I worked through the day which started to turn terribly busy. Yet still my mind flooded with thoughts on how gay I would feel watching them swiftly glide down to the bottom floor. Free from their strong clutches. I remember asking myself, Would this quick event change my life? Could I be happy at its conclusion? Would there be meaning for me behind their fall? As I was contemplating the meaning of the universe. My mind was all at once force to turn away as my boring reality came back to hunt me; more service marines demanding their over-priced drinks to be exactly the way they wanted it. And not long after that I suddenly felt unsure anything would happen. This is and will be my life. But The moment I let my guard down. My best friend Laurie said the words I did not, could not nor want to hear.
“Look at this Daniel… they finally fell, how bizarre. We’ve had some crazy weather lately. Even by New York standards.”
My back was facing the door when she broke the news, and in those few seconds it took me to turn around. My mind filled with the thoughts of how ordinary I really was. “All this time I thought the leaves would fall for me.”
“What made you think that crazy.” she shot me down.
I wasn’t talking to her. Suddenly, as if I had forgotten what another human being looked like, He entered the café. He stood in front of the glass door, as if immortalized for all time, like an old picture for me. Or was it my long stare? Did my eyes capture his image and burn it into my eye lids for all time? Was he standing there just for me to soak in all his glory? I hoped so. He was slim but dramatically handsome, with ash brown, curly hair. And his eyes, his light golden-brown eyes, were piercing.
Drifting in with him, like confetti at a parade. My tree’s brownish leaves dance all around him until they lightly covered the entrance floor. The white sun’s rays then illuminated the café as the door flew open. Ordaining a glowing shine upon his brown skin and graceful face. As if it were asserting his perfection. His eyes made clear as crystal water from the sun’s light. penetrates my own in a split second, and I felt in that second. I had fallen a thousand feet off a cliff. My mind froze, yet my eyes lust. And all my lips and tongue could whisper was,
“He made the leaves fall.”