Fall, to Seohyun, was the most intricately crafted season of the year. God must have spent just a tad bit more time in the creation of such beautiful melodies. The song that the rustling leaves had played at her feet when she would head to school had echoed with melancholy silence.
 

Her own voice had been quiet among thoughts of her mother.
 

They baked cookies together for her dad during the chilly autumn, adding sprinkles and sugary icing to decorate, filling the kitchen with the warm scent of home. After the whole mess, her mother would take a damp cloth and wipe the streaks of flour from her little stained cheeks. 
 

Her mom always read to her before she fell asleep at night, the words becoming waves of lullabies that soothed her little soul to sleep. The sound of her voice was like the tides upon the beach, constant, consistent, endless. 
 

The way they played among the browning leaves that lay in huge piles and smelled like the forest. The thirteen year old Seohyun had missed that. The way her mom had hugged her, wrapping her in a tight embrace after they were tired out as they lay together under the eternally speckled night sky.
 

Her mom would vividly describe to her the beauty of the stars, saying that they were little holes in the floor of heaven. 
 

Her mom told her that if Seohyun didn't hold on tight to the grass, she would be whisked away to up there. 
 

Soon after, her mom must have lost her grip on the green grass. 
 

The younger Seohyun did not comprehend the sudden disappearance, She had constantly pestered her dad, "Where's mom?" Her dad could not answer her. 
 

"Mom went far away. To a better place. She'll be back soon my dear," he had whispered to her, every night for years.
 

The funeral never registered in her mind until she was older, around nine. The throngs of loud crying people and the multitude of hugs and condolences that were given to her that day were still fresh in her mind.
 

She remembered walking in front of the whole procession, slowly making her way down the evergreen carpet, all the while, tightly hugging her mother's picture, tears wetting her cheeks even though she wasn't sure why. 
 

Seohyun sipped on her coffee, tasting the bitter warmth of autumn. She casually surveyed the youngsters huddled together in groups, all dressed in school uniforms. Fall was the beginning of the second semester of school, and for them, it must be a wonderful time, filled with laughter and classroom fun. 
 

Her memories of preschool days on the playground, sitting under the shade were all crusted over with a much larger, looming memory. She desperately wanted to cling onto those warm kisses and loving hugs, but everything was too fleeting, and they had slipped through her fingers like sand before she could catch them all. 
 

Sometimes your heart is broken, and you're left to pick up the broken remnants. That's how she felt; she was still trying to pick up all the little fragments. 
 

Seohyun looked at the worn bracelet that she had been wearing for years. It had been a present from her mother and she couldn't bear to put it away.
 

In that quaint coffee shop, with the autumn wind blowing outside, Seohyun fought to control her emotions. Time heals all wounds. Lies. Time had done nothing for this emptiness her mother had left behind. The only memories of fall were of her mother. 
 

Fall was also a time of comforting or, at least, to be comforted. Among the colorful footprints of the chilly wind, there was a heavy gray sadness for the young Seohyun.
 

Kris never questioned her. He would simply pat her slumped shoulder, and comfort would be left clinging onto her arm, dripping from her sleeve.  He may have sat next to her for hours; she didn't remember, it was so long ago.
 

But she did remember him helping her home from the park every evening during those chilly months. 
 

But autumn wasn't always filled with misery, with her grief. She had Kris, and she had the library. When she wasn't too busy wallowing in self-pity, she would enjoy the winds that bit through her sweaters. 
 

Oftentimes, Kris would grab her hand and help her trace them over the characters, murmuring the words into her ears. At those moments, she did not only feel the scenery, she heard it, just like when her mom had read to her.
 

The images of towering mountains and gentle waves materialized in her mind, emerging from his smooth voice.
 

His hand radiated warmth, and she felt content, reading for hours.
 

Reading before, all alone was something she enjoyed, but after many autumns, reading with Kris became a necessity. 
 

The special primary school that Seohyun had attended taught her how to read Braille, but she was only reading simple stories. Her hands would get tired before she could finish a long book, and many words were too big, too unfamiliar. Kris taught them all to her. 
 

He convinced her that she had to move on to bigger, greater books. She couldn't be stuck reading ten paged folk tales for the rest of her life. He promised to teach them to her, all the words he knew. One crazy day, he decided to pour a spoonful of honey onto a book cover, and he told her to taste it. 
 

"That's what knowledge tastes like."
 

He was extremely patient with her, and he never gave up, even when she complained, even when she wanted to quit trying. 
 

"Here," he would say, placing a large printed and raised word before her. He would teach her at least five new words everyday, helping her read books, and eventually her vocabulary expanded.
 

Kris saved her from that tiny dark world which she saw through the blackness. 
 

She remembered asking, "Kris, how do you know so much Braille? You can see." 
 

"My mother is blind."
 

Seohyun remembered how shocked she had been when she heard those words. The sudden realization that Kris knew, that he had a small taste of the perpetual darkness that surrounded her had made Seohyun understand; complaining was not an option. 
 

The coffee was getting cold as Seohyun stared blankly at the table, lost in a different time. 
 

That time of their childhood was too fast, too fleeting.
 

It touched once in their lives, and it would never return.

A/n: This chapter was inspired by events in my childhood :) books that I've read when I was maybe 6. Thank you for reading.