Nikki Reed

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It was just the right kind of chilly, and the heels of my feet hurt from walking in my mother’s hand-me-down boots all day. We held hands and walked through the park, on our way to someplace to see something… we just hadn’t decided what it was. My free hand, my right hand, was numb from swinging in the icy wind as we walked. He switched sides, and wrapped both warm hands around that one. Like part of a dance, we continued to switch back and forth for the rest of the night. The ground was layered with crispy yellow leaves that formed a blanket covering the entire park. Each step welcomed a loud crunching noise. It was so soothing we walked in silence, although our synchronized smiles said more than words could anyhow. Leaves like that should be left for decoration I thought, not swept up, bagged and thrown away. You don’t see too many colorful leaves where I’m from, so I delicately picked one up, hoping it could live like that forever on a page in my journal.