Everything Included

In Which We See Who Tends The Trees

Main Street of Potter Oaks at 8:30 in the morning was filled with all sorts of people. They were mostly errand runners, though some had to be child wranglers as well- a child here and there on a parent's hip or on one of those child leashes. Most of my kind were asleep, preparing for their evening adventures where the boys and girls would meet, flirt, drink and indulge.

I liked the weekend mornings of Potter Oaks, a score of hurried footsteps, hushed children, and the low rumble of cars, filling my ears. Autumn made sure to paint Main Street with all variety of leaves, mostly oak though some were maple and birch. Nature's orange filled my vision, welcoming myself and Crispen into its embrace.

It was a lovely time and better yet, today I walked with Crispen. Eyes weren't upon us anymore- he was full blood Oaker now- and we got to freely enjoy ourselves. The sun felt good on my skin, though I was sure it would blister and red if I stayed among it for too long. I hadn't bothered to slip into my sneakers and so I strode down Main Street panda heads for feet that bobbed up and down as I went. I looked at everything with curious eyes. Who carried the fall into our town? What manner of creature tended to the trees and painted their leaves when the time was right? As I crunched on the leaves underfoot, was I impeding some creature's hard work?

"Don't worry about where you walk," Crispen said- the first words spoken outside of the Auttsley residence. I never felt the need to speak to Crispen unless I had something to say. And this was refreshing. We never indulged in small talk and formalities. We were approaching Mrs. Brokinn's fruit stand and as we did so, Crispen's nose crinkled.

"Her peaches aren't ripe yet."

He looked disheartened. We passed by her, sleeping as she did every day, in her rocking chair, crocheting needles on her lap, and I chuckled. Potter Oaks had a charm about it from its residents and a feeling of the same old, of which I found soothing. Even Crispen's arrival hadn't changed the town's inner workings; it adjusted to his presence and he became another addition to the town.

"A train appeared on my lawn," I said, my hand reaching up and pulling a yellowed leaf off one of the old oak trees overhead. Leaves always looked like stars to me and when they fell, their was something tragic in them. The coin trembled its agreement in my back pocket. I ran my hand over the rough surface of the leaf; I would preserve it, as I did with leaves and flowers, and it would make a fine addition to my collection. Crispen looked at me and the leaf in my hands and smiled.

"Why that leaf?"

An interesting question to ask.

"No reason. No why. I just chose it. Or maybe it chose me." I put the leaf carefully into my hoodie's side pocket. I had been smart this day, and knowing a sunny Autumn day still invited the cold, I made sure I came prepared. I'd grabbed my mother's hoodie of the coat hanger and had hoped she would not be in need of it later. I would get a lecture on it if she noticed its disappearance.

Crispen looked into one of the bay windows of Cortonelli's Hardware shop. He eyed nothing in particular, just looked at his reflection. Nothing struck me as odd or different about him but the way he stared into the glass's surface told me he saw something I could not.

Mr. Heavensley still wore black today; crew neck black sweater three sizes too big, acid washed jeans whose better days were well behind them, and black loafers, slip on instead of laced. He had a relaxed air about him, his pace his own. His hair was parted to the side, strands held in their places with no manner of gel or product. Perhaps he had willed his hair to stay that way and the strands themselves could do nothing but oblige.

Some sort of sigil fell from his left ear, a cross within a circle, though there was nothing Christian about the cross. Upon closer inspection, which involved me ignoring the rules of personal space, I saw four tiny crows skillfully etched on each of the cross's limbs. He hadn't worn an earring before. Honestly, I didn't recall him having pierced ears. Perhaps this had been his preference for today. Nature, fashion, time, all bending to his will. How fascinating.