The Scarf

I roll over onto my side and cover my head with a second pillow, trying to smother the images. I wipe my cheeks quickly with the back of my hand. I straighten up and take a deep breath before heading to the kitchen.

As the water runs into my glass, I look out the window. The big tree in my backyard is bare now. It looks dead. The leaves are in very neat piles on the ground thanks to our gardener Mom hired over the summer. She still has him come every week even though the chilly air has decimated every living thing outside.