Disbanded autumn leaves crashing as if crippled waves slowly brush cross your path. The soles of your leather clad shoes bash few aside while many are engulfed under the char coaled soles reduced to a now turbulent wind of orange, red, plastered, frivolous energy, scattered to the wind. You, Alex, hurry along detached from the thought of crushing leaves and rather meeting on the set time at your friend Yuri's house you planned to meet at 5.10 and stay a few nights. Generally playing it by ear.

Yuri and you over the week and a bit since you first joined the literature club have become friends enveloped in each others personality and stylized tone towards writing. The fair was a serious hurdle which everyone banded together to not overcome but rather to enjoy. Since then no new members have joined nor presented an interest but none the less your club display was certainly a high point for the festival (even attempting to allow people to forget the incident with the anime club and the staple gun).

You distinctly remember how Yuri and you arrived to hang decorations at 6.00 in the morning. How after knowing each other for only a week you were able to trust in either persons ability to remember and contribute to something that was utterly important to not just both but all of the literature club members.

You reminisce further to how the windows were draped with black paper, candles lit and incense vaporized. By the time it broke 8.00 the room was darkened to suit the mood with the thin candlelit glow serving as much needed illumination and atmosphere. Sayori was the first to pierce open the door ways to the club. Streaming in a cone of sunshine that seemed to emanate from her, portraying her true self. By the time Sayori had fussed over our decorative choices Natsuki pushed through as Sayori had done before bearing a tray of eloquently decorated plush and prim cupcakes created in the likeness of many, sugar coated animals.

Monika followed suit spreading cheer, order and focus in her wake like a beacon and so the literature club was at perhaps in such rarity at perfect functionality. There was one more thing about this event to remember though and that was Yuri. Woken at 6.00 (more likely 5.00) to prepare decorations, she looked oddly emaciated and tired. Not unusual for such an early hour, I was not much better off myself. But the way she always remained so cautious and astute yet here she seemed so tired and comparatively clumsy while attempting to keep up with her standard behaviors. It was odd to find in such a person a sample of weakness as delicate as this, it seemed almost cute in a way that...

...the time.

I checked my watch anxious for how it would read...

...

5.07

I have never been the type of person to be particularly concerned with time but with my first visit with Yuri on the line, I was indeed worried. My destination was only 10 minutes away and although I had been pondering and walking for just as long I had wandered into an entirely different street. Scanning (or tearing) through my mental archives I was able to uncover an address, A77 Nimecresent street. Yuri's house. Quickly I began to dash along the road I had just passed looking for any signs that could otherwise refine my route before I approached the large blue road sign 50m away. Apparently, the sign read that her street was only a few blocks from this neighborhood indicating I must have walked directly past it.

At a now desperately escalating pace I checked my watch 5.09. 5.10 was the time we were scheduled to meet and I so desperately wanted to fit that time frame precisely. By the time I managed to navigate to Yuri's home through all the other houses, addresses and oncoming cars I managed to finally find what looked like her doorstep.

Calming down and letting my running body and its rapidly beating heart calm to a steady tempo I trotted onto the small gravel road to the house If this mas indeed Yuri's place it more or less fitted my expectations. Neat, reasonably large and with an older, villa feel with from what I could see through the dark tinted windows nicely aligned and arranged furniture, I check my watch...

5.12...

I go to knock, not frightened in any meaning of the word just slightly apprehensive. I Knock on her wooden door confidently, three times, my knuckles rapping against the frame to almost enunciate the knock with a soft yet welcoming feel. Between the fascinating techniques of door knocking, I had begun to evaluate it was not a sudden glance at my watch that disrupted my train of thought but a tremendous COSH! as something heavy from inside the house smacked into what sounded like a wall. "Yuri", I thought, and in an odd mixture of concerned and unsurprised emotions, I let a low chuckle whistle out my lips and into the wind.