YayCoffee (yaycoffee) wrote in yaycoffeewrites,

Ficlet: "Autumn"

Title: Autumn
Author: YayCoffee
Fandom: Joan of Arcadia
Characters: Adam, God
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Barbara Hall's.
Summary: Jane told him once that she talked to God.


Jane told him once that she talked to God. And, he didn't know what to think about that. She was sick. So sick. But, her eyes were thick--with hope and fear and love and tears. Her eyes were almost always filled with tears. Her eyes were one of the things he loved most about her.

Then, she went away.

While she was gone, one day, he remembered--a flash of photographic memory that switched on, like a film in his head.

He remembered a time in the bookstore--they were talking. And he hadn't talked to anyone is so long, and he missed his mother, and she understood without having known anything at all. And she almost told him something before a customer needed her help. When she came back she didn't tell, but for some reason, when the customer touched him on her way out, he knew it would be all right… she would tell him later.

And, she did.

But, she was sick, and...

The day he remembered—that was the day he went to the bookstore again, and there was no Jane, just Sammy, and the bookstore felt empty.

When he picked up a book, the customer--the same customer from that day rounded the corner from the shelf behind, and he thought it might be some sort of sign. She smiled at him.

On her way out the door, she stopped and looked at him--eyes owl-like behind her glasses. He expected her voice to sound older or frailer, but she spoke clearly, with strength and a tenderness he remembered from before, from somewhere.

She said, "Looks like autumn is on the way, finally. You know, I always liked autumn. The leaves change. Everything looks different, and the trees start to look dead, but they aren't. They just need time. In the spring, they will be even fuller than last year."

She opened the door with a jangle, and her skirt blew around her knees as she walked out of sight. He paid Sammy for his books and headed down the street. The breeze against his face was cool, and so he pulled up his hood and walked home, feeling the weight of the books in his bag and wondering what it would be like to talk to God.


Tags: gen, joan of arcadia

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