“Janie.”

She glared at me out of the corner of her eye, determined to ignore me. I couldn’t be sure why she was mad, but I could tell. She was mad. Her hand had its fingers curled under forcing her nails into the wooden bench making five crescent indentations.

I slipped my hand beneath hers but she promptly moved it to her lap.

“Have you looked at the leaves at all this year?” I said, “They are very vibrant, the reds are redder than they’ve been in years, and the golden leaves are just that: golden. There hasn’t been any frost this year.” I looked across the park. It was true though, the leaves marbled the park a swirl of fabulous colors. The path was blanketed with a layer of the same leaves and in the air more leaves broke free from the trees and fell gently to the ground.

I watched the leaves; I watched a leaf falling from the redbud tree land on her shoulder. I picked it up, placed it in her hands just before she lifted her head to look around as well.

“You get better colors when there is no frost.”