Two fools and the dead leaves 🍂
An October Tale Leo was eight, and Finn was six when they first discovered the magic of the October backyard. Every year, when the old maple tree shed its canopy, their father would rake the crimson, gold, and russet flakes into a mountainous pile. This wasn't yard work; it was their annual pilgrimage. They'd race across the damp grass, yelling war cries, and leap into the soft, brittle heap, the satisfying crunch drowning out the world. The smell of decaying wood and cool dirt was the scent of autumn itself, the only constant in their quickly changing lives. They grew up, but the ritual never did. High school gave way to college, and college to careers. Leo became an architect in the city; Finn traveled, writing articles for niche magazines. They scheduled their lives around the last weekend of October, often driving hundreds of miles to meet back at the old house. "The Crunch," they called it now. They were men with mortgage payments and serious titles, b...