The petiole of the lonely leaf finally broke off.
The wind carried it far away from the now dead tree.
The leaf was floating in a wavy and monotone pattern.
It passed an empty bench, littered with newspapers torn in a psychosis induced outburst.
It passed a car crashed in a tree, with no signs that the driver wanted to avoid it, but also no traces of blood.
It got to a bridge when the wind was dying down.
The leaf began to plummet towards the rushing cold waters.
It was passed by something, in the air.
That something is now as dead as the tree from which the leaf fell.