The Boy in the Brown Sweater

Today requires him to fit in , Tomorrow he does not know, Yesterday hated him. 

He exited the school of all familiar stress. The smell of petrichor fills his lungs on the damp fall  evening. His bag is heavy on his shoulders, and he must walk home. He carries on.

Each step seems heavier as he walks, head low. The leaves become puddles beneath his feet. 

Splash

Splash

Splash

He finds peace in his rainy evenings, he takes a solemn step. Embracing his surroundings. He lifts his head, catches a raindrop on his forehead. It is cold, and falls town to the tip of his nose, then leaves him. 

He rounds the first corner now, one more block. 

His hood protects him little, as the trees drop heavier than the sky. His step is gentle  as he passes the rooted memories of countless. The sidewalk is a harsh grey with a silver lining by the rain. Vibrant leaves spread themselves without pattern to where they fall. The sky is the most beautiful grey, He turns the corner once more as he makes for the sidewalk to lead him home. The tree is a tall oak. Not to far from the street, The sidewalk forbids it from reaching the house, but it finds its way in the world. That's what he liked about trees, they are content as they are. The rain falls.

Drip

Drip

Drip

The old, short fence rots and darkens in the rain beside him as he approaches another memory.

This was more aggressive, as if it lived to not be forgotten, The sidewalk curved into a sharp hill over its mighty roots. The boy in the brown sweater trudged over them with little effort. They meant nothing to him, his  weight, lied on his back. They all had to carry something, 

He stepped closer to the end to the sidewalk. There were no more memories on his way. The street, though wet, was busy w with the cars. He looked for an opening. 

Too far

No 

Go!

Too late

Another opening

They're going pretty fast 

I have to get home

I can't wait any longer

Go!

Go!

He broke his statue as he walked across the street to his front yard. He passed two memories before reaching his yard, they were the mightiest of all. The dazzling leaves dripped water onto his hood as they arched to create a way for him.. He crossed, grateful. His yard held two stumps. The memories were gone.  What once seemed so unforgettable, so familiar, had long since rotted and fallen into but a shell, a reminder of a forgotten past, 

Drip 

Drip

 Drip

He caught a raindrop in his hand.