Stuck

Past the white, horizontal rows that make up the window shade, I see the leaves.

Avocado-green on one side, golden-brown on the other.

They fall onto the concrete of the street and the cement of the sidewalk.

Pattering like rain.

They spin several times through the endless space of air before they hit the ground.

Twisting like strips of paper-mâché confetti.

I turn away from the window and face the front, that screen which forces me to stay in here--prevents me from running away and joining the jubilation I see.

Though not even a minute has passed, when I look outside the window again, everything is completely still.

The leaves have stopped.