The leaves swirl, born aloft by the chill autumn wind, unaware of the girl with the dark hair standing in their midst. She clutches her binder to her chest, the white plastic making it harder to breathe, but she doesn't notice. Her eyes are locked on the near distance, stare glassy in wonder.
The boy stands a little ways away, on the other side of the fall storm, laughing, blue eyes alight on a girl standing in front of him. The girl, long, auburn hair swishing, smiles at him and starts to leave. He grabs her wrist, lightly, like holding a fragile being, the arm of one who could shatter at any given moment. His mouth moves, and she nods, smiling and twirling away. Thursday night, at 7.
The dark-haired girl barely moves, barely breathes, imagining herself a wounded animal lying in the leaves in the middle of the school yard. That way her emotions would match her appearance. Dead. Chest torn out, ripped apart, the blood pooling around her.
The boy turns, sends a smile her way, and saunte