Death

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For once, the crunching of dead leaves under his feet was the only sound in his ears. He looked up to simply spectate the Autumn couloirs swirling gently in the breeze, to hear the rustling of leaves above his head, the soft birds call, the scene washed in the deep reds of the setting sun.

A moment of peace in the chaos. An image that would stay.

Even after the leaves had long since been swept away, even after the trees themselves had fallen to the inevitable cycle of life and death.

A moment, a memory to last a lifetime.

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