Wearily she perched on a damp log at the bottom of the garden. The lawn was strewn with the gold and red of Autumn and the heavy mustiness of the end of the season.
Apples from the tree, once heavy with juice, now lay forgotten, nestled the grass, a white decay slowly eating them away.
It was still warm, given the time of year, but she wrapped the crisp blue denim of her new jacket tight around her body, protecting it from the spoilage.
Beside her on the log was a tightly sealed jar of Autumn leaves. A collection of perfectly dry russet reminders.
They said that she would survive Autumn.
So she kept the Autumn alive in her jar.
(I was saving this one for the autumn…but I think it’s already here!)