Dead. Leaves.

Image

The leaves detached themselves from their branches.

Freedom. Much desired, but not always savoured.

They couldn’t handle free-falling; it was too scary. It wasn’t what they had imagined freedom to be. They thought they would fly, like the birds which came home to their trees every evening.

Then it all stopped.

Fear and freedom. They gained and lost both.

The ground was hard, cold and lifeless. Just like them.

Dead. Leaves.

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