Veve (veve) wrote in wordware,


She could hear the wind moving the branches of trees outside the window. One would brush the roof over her office every so often.

Looking up from her computer screen outside the window she could see the change of seasons beginning.

There was a time she loved the coming of fall. The slight nip that would come to morning air. The look of leaves on trees as they started to lose their green and burn brightly before falling to the ground.

She sighed and the trees moved again as if they could feel the pain that she tried to breath out.

She flexed her fingers and glanced at the piles of papers she had surrounded herself with. Crisp clean white papers in uneven piles. Small edges poking out of the sides. Papers had somehow turned. Once there might have been clean unbroken lines of paper.

She ran her finger down one side of a pile. Feeling the roughness of so many edges of paper.When she reached the bottom she scratched her nail slightly across the surface of the table.

She reached the edge and her hand dropped onto her lap like a dead weight.

She felt heavy.
So tired and heavy.

Her shoulders slumped slightly forward and she tried to breath and as she struggled her eyes slid to the side of the window. To her calendar.

She had know it was coming, she always did.


Her eyes focused through the tears that were gathering. She took another breath, and the trees trembled as did her shoulders.

Her mouth suddenly dry as she stared at the paper on the wall.

This one had a pictures of wildlife. She bought it thinking it might help. The the sight of so much beauty would somehow counteract everything else.

It didn't.

Last year it had been kittens.

The first year she refused to buy a calender believing that if she did not acknowledge it then it would not come and time would not pass and her world would be fine and she would not hate September for all that it had brought her and all that it had taken from her.

The room was white, she had wanted it to be yellow. She always liked yellow.

The picture was of an elk. He stood at the edge of some trees. His nose turned as if he smelled something. He looked immovable, strong and wild.

Her eyes locked onto the one eye that seemed to be looking directly at her. The huge brown eye framed with lashes. Beautiful long lashes. The pupil was large and black and drew her in. She stared and held her breath for a moment. As she exhaled eyes blurred and her breath caught in her throat. Shivers ran down her back to settle in her hand that ached.

She rolled her wrist and looked back at her screen.

The wind died down. Every so often a branch would brush against the roof.
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