Left to Leaves
Ten thousand leaves lay beneath her feet. Leaves he was supposed to feel as well, next to her. The two of them feeling the same bed of leaves, together. Golden yellows and oranges and reds that could have been scratching their toes now just tear the skin around her Achilles’ heel.
He cancelled last minute for the last time and this time she stands alone without the hope of his ankles soon touching hers. Perhaps the last time they rubbed heels, he was scared and his fear fell onto the forest floor, contaminating the leaves with his bad judgement.
The skin under her feet is starting to get itchy. She lifts one foot at a time, balancing on the left and then alternating to the right, so that she can avoid constant contact with the leaves’ slow seepage.
