Covered by the Leaves

The year had sped by and it was now late November, winter would soon be upon us and surely by now the leaves had all fallen to the ground or been divested away by the wind. Yet as I approached the spot where the tree stood, my eyes were still drawn in its direction.

Slowly inching my way within an arm's length to the tree, I found myself standing underneath the largest bough and then I saw it, a rope, with a noose dangling at the end.

I no longer wondered about what stories this old tree could tell because without saying a word it had already told me more than I really wanted to know. The tree served only to fan the flames of my employment discontentment.