All was quiet as I sat leaning back against his warm form, his warm arms encircling me as I gazed at the gleaming river just a few feet ahead. The moon was partially shielded by the clouds, the ghost of what would have been a very bright moon. A soft gentle breeze floated to us, and once it passed, I found that it was not “us” but me – all alone, left with the harsh, but tranquil rustle of the leaves overhead.

Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I wished that they would just flow, but they remained there, painful as ever, an increasingly excruciating constriction in my throat. I raised my gaze to the stars above, searching for the brightest one, and wondering, just wondering, hoping against all hope that he was not that star, and that I could see him again.

The chill of the night crept around and into me, and I realized I was sulking childishly for some oddly unfathomable reason. The stars had no eyes, no mouth, no hair, no nose, no heart. No heart to love me as he did. I had once heard that a star falls whenever someone thinks of and misses another. I knew, soon, that I would be enveloped in darkness, for my eyelids were starting to feel heavy. But I could not sleep; there was nothing realistic to dream about anymore.

I tore my gaze from the water and dragged it to the oak tree I was leaning against. I drew my knees up against my chest and reveled in the comfort of its sunken-in trunk. We grew up with it, and it grew to fit our bodies. The moon was gone now, and my hair whipped across my face repeatedly, slashing my heart as it did so, as the thick leaves played a warning siren of the impending storm. The tree was as strong as our love, and the leaves did not fall.

Running my fingers along the markings on the tree, I remembered running to it after school to meet him for a little time together before dinner, and I remembered his handsome face greeting me with love and humour dancing about in his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned a shoulder against the tree, crossing his feet at the ankles as he nodded towards deep markings on the tree trunk.

“You were late, and I missed you,” he explained vaguely.

I took a look at the small, shining knife on the grass and gasped softly in shock.

“You didn’t cut your-”

He threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. Standing upright, he held out his hand to me and said, “Come, my sweet. I’ll show you.”

“Keith loves Joan,” he enunciated. “You must come earlier next time, or I’ll have to write something mushier than this,” he teased, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. We dissolved in musical peals of laughter.

As the memory faded, I felt my spirits give a slight lift, and a new memory crept darkly into my head. The weather then was similar to the weather now. Thin leaves from all around began to fall about save for that of the oak tree’s. The wind whistled into my ears and I was wearing the same dress I wore then.

I was feeling cold then, and had his sweater and arms around me for warmth, but now, I was all alone with the tree. I was numb to the cold, however, and once again, I wished he were really here with me.

We were engaged, and then married. I wore both rings on the same hand, and I was a very happy lady. On the night of our wedding, we sat by the river, under the old oak tree, and he held my hand in his, twining his fingers with mine. We were quiet for ages, and all of a sudden, he pulled my engagement ring off my finger and threw it into the river.

“Away with that; we’re married now.” The surge of fury in me faded abruptly. So did the wind.

A leaf fell onto my lap, and it tore a gasp from me. This leaf was different, I noticed. It was of a darker green, and it was thicker and tougher than the others. I bit my lower lip and lifted the oak tree’s leaf to my face, rubbing my cheek lightly against it, savouring the feel of its softness against my skin.

Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I wished that they would just flow, and they did, painful as ever as they trailed a scorching path down my face, an increasingly excruciating constriction in my throat. And for the first time since he left, I wept. Gone was the warmth I could imagine, gone was my soul with his.