You slow to a gentle halt and bend to the cooling dirt path. You pick a fallen leaf from the ground. It’s after sunset. You smile with your face and your mouth and you hand me the leaf. It’s slightly caterpillar-chewed on one side. Red veins flow from the brownish-green stem to the yellow outer fingers. The underside is covered in grit from the gravelly road. I thank you for the leaf. “Thank you for the leaf.” I say. You nod and smile with your mouth and your face. And you walk away.