Осень

Autumn has put everything back in its place again. The leaves fall as if covering old conversations, unspoken phrases, and unfulfilled promises. The air smells of farewell - quiet, without hysterics, when it no longer hurts, but still aches. The wind works as a postman: it carries away unwanted memories, dries your eyes, and brings a strange sense of relief. Everything became simpler - colder, but cleaner. Somewhere out there, beyond the former "we," someone might warm you up, but it won't be the one who stood beside you in that golden rain. And there's truth in that - a little sad, but mature, like autumn itself.