Leaves that Fall

Cold winds flew through the dusty footpaths of Lopin. The desolate place bought an eerie feeling to any sentimental being’s mind that dared looking around. Milo walked along the small trail, his head hanging on his shoulders, eyes looking at the dirt in front of him.

He felt sick in his stomach. The missed opportunity filled him with feelings of regret, pondering what could have been. Regret, he knew, was not worth dwelling on. Snapping out of it, he tried examining what had happened, to better understand the situation, and what he could do better next time, for life seemed long—not short—and he expected to live the best way he knew how.