Autumn Outside The Post Office Novels & Stories

The café played a jazz rendition of Lennon's Imagine. The topic on Feynman and all others that it brought about had ended. Noon, still one hour to go. They both looked through the window at the colorful street; the foliage of green, yellow, red and all colors in between threw shades on the passers-by, parked cars, and a blue USPS box across the street. Who still sends actual mail these days? she thought.

Margarita is reviewing the last contract for a product delivery and just told me I could go home. I turn off my computer, slowly gather my things, and leave the office. For a moment, I pause by the panoramic window that makes up the wall along the hallway leading to the reception area. What a fantastic view of the almost autumn landscape! The city looks breathtaking in the evening light. The sun shines softly now, preparing to set, while people wrap up their work and head outside for warm evening walks.

Before I could say another word, the line disconnected, leaving behind nothing but the hollow beeping tone. The cold grew sharper and sharper, carving straight into my bones. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. Suddenly, my phone lit up with a notification. I turned my head slightly and saw that Morgan had just updated his social media. In the photo, he wore nothing but a thin short-sleeved shirt with a popsicle hanging from his mouth. 'So lucky Ms. Sheffield brought me a generator, or I would have frozen tonight too.' I stared at the picture for a long time.

The Morelli mansion in autumn was a completely different place than the one she had visited in a delicate rose-scented evening of May. The old oaks that flanked the driveway had turned colors deep amber and copper-rust and most typically burnt gold of October doing its most intentional work and the scent of the place was woodsmoke and wet earth with something sweetly fermenting in the orchard beyond the east garden. The sky was the definite shade of blue that only comes after the first cold nights, a clean and vertiginous blue which invariably makes the objects under it look more like themselves.

BAB 97 — THE END OF AUTUMN Two months had passed since Chatrine’s departure. Liam’s days no longer felt the same. And yet somehow, everything at the gallery continued running smoothly. Like the world slowly finding its balance again after disaster, nature always seemed to discover a way to heal itself. Autumn in Canterbury had begun to age. Maple leaves scattered across the front yard of the Conelli family home, piling softly along the stone path leading toward the white fence. The morning air felt cold and damp, carrying the familiar scent of wet earth.

I need to be a more caring hostess. The post office was quiet and empty. Four o'clock is the end of the working day. Around seven this town will calm down until morning. Inside, at one of the three computer desks, a teenager in large headphones was sitting, he did not pay any attention to the loud slamming of the door behind me. I stomped at the entrance, shaking the snow off my feet, and went straight to the mailboxes where my aunt and I rented a box. The postman leaned over the counter to get a better look at me.

he said. Outside the Court Street morning was doing its October thing. The trees were turning. The season shifting. I finished the cold coffee. Opened the bakery for the day.

The leaves fell to the ground, adorning the streets and sidewalks with their vibrant gold and red hues. Through the glass window of Logan's sleek black Audi A4, as he slowly weaves through New York traffic, I watch the trees dance in the autumn breeze. The small world inside this car, the world that only consists of me and Logan, is packed with a tense and dull atmosphere, in contrast to the calm and happy spirit that followed the world outside the car. I haven't said anything to him except nod when he asked if he could drop me off at University because I was running late this morning. I would have taken a ride with Scarlet if she hadn't had to leave with Patrick so early this morning.

When he tried the third time and still did not get an answer, he got into his truck and drove to the post office, where he now stood fifteen minutes passed the time Cynthia was supposed to unlock the door. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to be late, Alex thought. Not only were many of the temporary vacationers eager to pick up their last mail delivery and head back to the city, it was also the third of the month, when many of the elderly residents received their social security checks. “Alex, why don’t you open the Postoffice?” Jake shouted from his truck. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve been suspended,” Jake was not at all sympathetic to Alex’s excuse.

CHAPTER 43 Autumn had arrived in Riverside. The trees have turned into a fiery glow of orange, yellows, and reds. It’s Lina’s favorite season and her son, Adam. They would go out in the afternoon and play underneath the maple trees in their backyard. She would pretend to shovel Adam inside a pile of leaves. Her son would growl and try to catch her while she pretended to be afraid. Their peals of laughter would ring the backyard. Later, Rita would call them back for a snack of muffins and warm milk.