English Version: Sands & Sparrow

59

New York Park.

A cool autumn breeze whispered through the trees, plucking leaves from their branches and sending them to the ground in a colorful flare. The air held a distinct chill of the coming winter, but the warm golden sunlight streaming through the canopy took the edge off the cold.

The park was a scream of color, the fading greens of summer giving way to the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. Bright splashes of late-blooming flowers dotted the landscape, providing a cheerful distinction to the carpets of fallen leaves that blanketed the grass. The paved paths wound through the park were obscured beneath a layer of brittle maple leaves that crunched and crackled underfoot with each step.

Sophia and Margo sat side by side on a weathered wooden bench. Margo glanced over at Sophia, taking in her wind-pinkened cheeks and how she huddled into her coat. "Are you cold?" she asked.

Sophia raised a hand to cover her mouth as if in answer, stifling a sneeze. She sniffled, giving Margo a rueful smile. "It hasn't been raining, but it's freezing," she said, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the latticework of bare branches overhead, painting abstract patterns on the ground and gilding the edges of the drifting clouds. The sunlight caught in Margo's eyes, turning the green to a striking shade of jade.

"Here, let me fix this," Margo murmured, unwinding the soft green scarf from around her neck and looping it around Sophia's. Her fingers brushed against the smooth skin of Sophia's throat, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. A single red maple leaf had landed on the collar of Sophia's brown leather jacket, and Margo plucked it off, twirling it between her fingers before letting it drop to the ground.

"Let me pull out your gloves, Sophia," Margo said, reaching into her coat pocket and withdrawing a pair of supple leather gloves. She took Sophia's hands in her own, frowning slightly at how cold they were. "You're right; it's not even winter, yet your hands are freezing," she tutted, chafing Sophia's fingers between her palms to warm them up.

Sophia laughed. "Thanks. Don't give too much air. My hands will get burned," she teased, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Margo snorted, shaking her head in amusement. "Your hands are not wood," she retorted, but she rubbed Sophia's hands, her touch gentle and soothing.

"Stop, you'll run out of air," Sophia giggled. She grabbed Margo's left hand and tucked it securely into her coat pocket.

"I can't complain," Margo said with a contented sigh, lacing her fingers through Sophia's and giving her hand a little squeeze.

A small flock of pigeons had gathered near their bench, drawn by a free meal. Margo dug into her other pocket and withdrew a small paper bag, tossing handfuls of breadcrumbs onto the ground for the birds. They watched the pigeons peck and bob, their iridescent feathers glowing in the honeyed light of the setting sun.

Margo's fingers tightened around Sophia's, the warmth of her palm seeping into her cold hand. "Sophia?" she said softly.

At the sound of her name, Sophia turned to look at Margo, a smile already on her face. "Yes, Margo?" she asked, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Margo hesitated for a moment. "Do you miss your life in the monastery?" she asked finally.

Sophia shook her head firmly. "Do you regret leaving?" Margo pressed with her brow furrowing.

Sophia took a deep breath, turning to gaze out over the river. The water was an ever-changing display of light and shadow, the colors shifting with the sun's movement. After a long moment, she looked back at Margo, her eyes soft and warm. "I would have regretted it if I had let you go," she said simply by gently squeezing Margo's hand.