Chapter .41.

"It hurts." "Of course it does," you smiled sadly. "The hurt is how we know it was love. The absence we feel is proof that what we had is something that can be lost." "...And when does it stop?" With eyes dark like a cloud before rain, you replied, "If it was love, it won't." ~Beau Taplin *** ~ATLAS~ I think father hates the fall. There's something about the season that puts him on edge. Something about it that always makes him stay inside, holed up within his office as the leafs continue their fading change in color. There are a lot of things that father can't look at. A lot of things that father won't or simply will not do. He won't sit on the back porch by himself. Someone has to be with him. He won't go to the lake. Jackie took me there sometimes, a beautiful place. But father never goes. He can't stand the color white. Dark colors suit him more, he'll say. But I know better. There are a lot