Autumn Outside The Post Office Novels & Stories

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.

And Gavin—well, Gavin’s three hours away, counting down the days until graduation, already acting like he’s got one foot out the door. Gemma texted me last night: You ever feel like you’re suffocating, even when the window’s open? I didn’t know how to answer. I keep thinking about summer, the salt wind and the laughter and the promises we made, but autumn isn’t summer. –And the truth is, maybe none of us are the same anymore. The thing about autumn is that it looks prettier than it feels. Everyone talks about the leaves—red, orange, gold, the whole cliché—but no one talks about the gray sky behind them, or the way the air smells like endings.

I picked up my phone and opened Ramona's profile again, searching for clues in the photos where she had been careful not to show her face. The window was left ajar in one of the photos, revealing the top of a building. It was the Starwell TV Tower, a landmark building of Silveridge. Another photo revealed the sign of a famous chain coffee shop. The third photo captured the flower bed outside the neighborhood. In less than half an hour, I had tracked down Ramona's location. She lived in Camphor Heights in Silveridge. A popular amusement park was only two miles from her neighborhood. Without hesitation, I changed into a comfortable tracksuit, grabbed my car keys and personal documents, then wa

giving her a small half wave as I tried not to drop my things once more, and backed out of the office. Getting to my van was super easy from the office. I opened the sliding door, placing my stuff down inside. Face palming as I totally forgot to stop by the post office to set up a mailing address. I had been too impatient to let my wolf out for a run. It slipped my mind. Sitting on the floor of my van, I let my legs dangle out the side. The sun feels hot against my skin, but the soft cool air of spring helps sooth the harshness of the sun. It was a beautiful day.

Azriel didn't look at either of them, but the hard, agonizing pulse ticking along his jawline was sharp enough to slice glass. By late afternoon, the pale sun had vanished behind heavy grey clouds, threatening a fresh dusting of mountain snow. Kat drove her red truck into town to drop off a list of hardware orders at the Valley Trading Post and check in with Adeline regarding the upcoming repairs on her main barn roof. The trading post was bustling with activity. Shopkeepers and local farmers gathered near the iron stove in the corner, sipping dark coffee and exchanging quiet murmurs about the upcoming spring timber harvest. "Kat, dear! Over here," Julietta called out warmly from behind the

The building is forever means: the relating is forever. Don read this over Ernest's shoulder. He said nothing. He went back to his notebook. He wrote something. Ernest did not see what he wrote. The October afternoon continued. The light shifted toward the golden hour, the specific quality of autumn light at the end of the day, the shadows long, the colors rich. Outside the kitchen window, the garden was in its drawing-in season, the plants preparing for winter, the ground receiving the last of the autumn light. The quince trees held their remaining fruit, waiting for the final picking.

“Maybe I should pack my bags and go back to Canada.” “Faith, Mario did not —” I abruptly stopped as my eyes caught the sight of Autumn walking down the steps with a tall guy beside her. I was hoping they would walk towards us yet they took a right turn once they hit the landing and then sat on the wooden chairs. I watched Autumn taking books out of her bag while saying something that set the guy groaning. They looked like they were in a friendly term.

He didn’t think this was a come-on. They walked out of the Station and up a slope Bobby hadn’t noticed before. And where was the parking lot? It should be just over there, to the left. A mist was closing in, unusual for this time of year. They went further. Shouldn’t they have come to the old Post Office building by now and the train yards? But there was only grass and brush and a few trees. ‘Something’s going on,’ said Bobby. The man smiled. ‘Something’s always going on. We just don’t always see it.’