It’s autumn. He knows this not because of the hue of the leaves, but because they fall like rain.
He may have survived the poison, but he has lost his colour vision. He can’t complain. Most people don’t survive at all, and the few who do are often left with even more debilitating issues like partial paralysis or the inability to form new memories.
Still, it’s a shame that he’ll no longer be able to enjoy his favourite fire-red avenues. He’ll need to change his favourite season. Lips curled in a wry smile, he turns away from the monochrome trees. He’s just about to cross the road when he catches a flash of green.
His head whips around, chasing the first spot of colour he’s seen in months. All his plans for the day drops from his mind as he breaks into a sprint.
September post count: 5/12