An old tune was playing on a loop in his head, a relic from a decades-old record.
— The leaves are turning, — he hummed softly to himself, — and the rain is at the door.
He glanced through the open bedroom door and watched his wife frantically stuffing suitcases. She was moving with a desperate haste, as if terrified that a bitter husband might try to snatch something back out of spite. It was painful to watch the woman he once loved succumb to such petty greed. He lay back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and let his mind wander.
Twenty years. Two decades of a life built together, and here she was, tearing it down without a hint of regret.
The house was filled with the sounds of her agitation—the rhythmic thud of closet doors, the sharp zipping of bags, the heavy, performative sighs.
She’s nervous, poor thing, he thought. Probably thinks I’m going to start a scene or block the door. Well, let her pack. Let her take the whole house if she wants. I don’t have any fight left in me.
He cracked one eye open and saw a massive trunk sitting in the middle of the hallway.
One full, and she’s already starting on the next. Where did all this stuff even come from? She’s probably terrified of leaving a single sock behind. I suppose that’s just how it goes. The seasons change, and the birds fly south. It’s autumn, and the birds are gone.
— What are you mumbling? I can’t hear a word you’re saying! — Sarah shouted from the bedroom.
— Nothing, nothing. Just an old song.
— Have you seen my silver hoops? The ones with the turquoise stones? — she asked, her voice sharp with irritation.
He smirked but kept his mouth shut.
— Are you deaf? My turquoise earrings. We bought them on that trip to Sedona, remember? They’re always in the jewelry box on the vanity.
— “The summer’s over, and the birds fly south,” — he sang out, his voice filling the living room.
— Are you mocking me? Real mature, Mark! I asked you a simple question about my jewelry, — she snapped, appearing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
Sensing a full-blown argument brewing, he finally relented.
— You gave them to your sister last Christmas. Don’t you remember?
— Right. God, thank you for reminding me. I’ll have to get those back.
He turned back to the ceiling, a bitter taste in his mouth.
Unbelievable. She’s losing her mind over a pair of cheap earrings while our marriage is ending. She has a drawer full of diamonds, but she’s worried about a pair of hand-me-downs. God, she’s become so small.
In the beginning, things had been good. They’d raised a decent son together and sent him off to NYU. They were still young enough to enjoy themselves. He had imagined a long, quiet stretch of “happily ever after” ahead of them. But a few years ago, the foundation had started to crumble. Sarah became combative, picking fights over the thermostat, the groceries, the way he breathed—looking for any excuse to light a match.
And then, today, she finally dropped the hammer.
— That’s it. I’m done. I’m calling a lawyer and I’m moving out.
That was the exact moment that old folk song had started playing in his head.
— “The leaves are falling, the sky is grey. The last of the summer has slipped away…”
He kept his eyes closed, drifting on the melody. But she wasn’t done with him yet.
— You’re just going to lie there? Must be nice. Don’t you even want to know who he is? Who I’m leaving you for?
— If you’ve decided to go, then go. I don’t have any questions for you.
— See! This is it! I knew you wouldn’t care. You never thought about me, never considered my needs. Are you even listening to me? What is that damn song?
— “And the rain is at the door, and the summer is no more…”
— Did you say something? — she barked.
— I said it’s clear you’ve made up your mind.
— Fine.
— “It’s autumn… and the birds fly south.”
— Are you refusing to speak to me now? — she screamed, her voice hitting a glass-shattering pitch.
— What is there to talk about, Sarah? Just finish your bags and go to Jason. That’s his name, isn’t it?
The silence that followed was heavy. She stood frozen for a long minute before finding her voice again.
— So, you know. How? Have you been following me? I knew it. You act like you’re so indifferent, but you’ve been playing the private eye. You pathetic, sneaking coward.
— “The cranes are forming a silver line, leaving the winter far behind…”
— Stop humming! I can’t hear you!
— “The autumn of life comes on so fast, and none of the shadows are meant to last,” — he belted out, a dark grin spreading across his face.
— Stop acting like a lounge singer! — she hissed. — Tell me how you know about Jason!
— “It’s autumn… oh, it’s autumn…”
— Stop singing! I asked you a question!
— Are you sure you want the truth? Fine. I didn’t follow you. While you were at your mother’s last weekend, Jason stopped by. He had quite a bit to say, — Mark said, his smile widening.
— Stop it, — she whispered. — He just… showed up? And told you? That’s impossible.
— Believe what you want, but your new lead singer didn’t have much of a filter. He showed up with a bottle of overpriced bourbon and told me all about your grand plans. But I wouldn’t pick out a wedding dress just yet. You’re going to regret this, Sarah. Deeply.
— What, are your feelings hurt? Go be miserable somewhere else.
— I’m not miserable, I’m finished. If this is “true love,” then go for it. I won’t stand in your way. Jason told me he couldn’t live without you. Said you were the best thing that ever happened to him and he’d never find another woman like you.
— Well, — she said, her voice regaining its haughty edge. — At least someone appreciates me.
— Does it bother you at all that he’s barely older than our son? Do you really think that’s a “forever” kind of thing?
— He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be, — she said proudly.
— Is that so? I hate to ruin the fairy tale, but at the end of our little chat, your knight in shining armor hinted that for fifty thousand dollars, he’d be more than happy to disappear from your life forever.
She let out a sharp, jagged laugh.
— Nice try. I don’t believe a word of it. You’re just trying to smear a good man’s name because you’re losing.
— He was very specific about the amount. Didn’t even blink. It wasn’t his first time shaking someone down, Sarah. It’s what he does. Just… watch your back.
— Enough! I’m not listening to another word of your lies! — she shouted, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.
— “The leaves are turning, and the birds fly south,” — he sang, louder than before.
— Cut it out!
— Don’t like the music? Then take your bags and get out. I’m not holding you back. Goodbye, Sarah. I’ll see you in court.
The door slammed so hard the pictures on the wall rattled. She was gone.
A month passed, then two. One rainy Tuesday evening, she was back, standing on the porch with puffy eyes and a trembling lip. She begged for a second chance, crying about mistakes and starting over.
Mark looked at her through the screen door, and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she was humiliating herself like this. She had burned the house down herself. He should have felt something—pity, maybe, or even triumph—but all he felt was the quiet chill of the season.
The summer was gone, and you can’t bring the birds back once they’ve flown.
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