Fallen from Grace

Epilogue

Our new story, much like most stories, goes like this:

It was a sunlit day of late spring, and the sky held a soft blue glow. You could tell it was spring because of seeing the green grass with specks of color from flowers like lavenders, roses, or asters. You could tell it was spring because the white coat of snow had melted from the sunlight. And you could tell it was spring because the trees had resurrected, and were standing tall with bright green leaves resting on the branches.

The flower that had been a tight bud only days ago had begun to open, already had a deeper blush of pink. The winter should still be in force but already spring had pushed it back to moderate temperatures and the kind of gentle breeze you don't notice unless you stop and be present in the moment. The lazy win