She was driving to this song. Her CD player was broken, and kept playing it over. Or maybe she was just controlling that with her mind. Who knew? She didn’t care. She had spent the morning reading and listening and watching and drinking and barely eating, she realised for a moment. She pulled over to get a healthy sandwich or salad, it didn’t matter really because she was only tasting the words of her day, which were stretchy like bland. So the chocolate muffin was perfect.
She laughed to herself when she saw the naked, silhouetted tree. Fact is stranger than fiction, after all.
Her head was full of clever people’s recycled words. And she, silent more often than not, confused the clever people. Why did this tree have no leaves?
Full of memories of echoing words, in canyons, on lonely family holidays, she got back into the car. On one of those trips, she had stopped yelling into the canyon, and had started throwing leaves instead. It was autumn, the tree was beautiful like everything you never had, and well, she wasn’t sure why. Or, she just couldn’t remember.
Tears were falling now, as the harvest moon was rising in front of her. She started driving faster, because darn it, she was going to drive through it this time.