Whispers of the Autumn Wind
The old man sat alone on the park bench, the autumn leaves swirling around his feet. Every day for the past fifty years, he had come to this spot, a ritual that began long ago with someone who no longer sat beside him. They had met here in the spring of their youth, under the blooming cherry blossoms, their laughter filling the air.
As he sat, he clutched a worn photograph, edges...
As he sat, he clutched a worn photograph, edges...