Sometimes when the leaves fall,

it’s like they are sinking slowly

to the bottom of a mundane cup.

When I was half-grown, I asked,

“Do you drink tea, Summer?”

She fiddled with her fingers

and rubbed her palms against her cheeks,

(she had pink hair back then,

and it fell over her red fingernail polish

like a bad Valentine’s Day outfit

when she did this),

“Only in the wintertime,

because it makes me fall asleep.”

I was going through my "Lit Mag" folder on my computer (because I'm weirdly organized when it comes to school assignments) and I came across this.  I remember that the final had something to do with a girl who died of cancer and an old acquaintance didn't recognize her photo... but not this draft.  I don't think this had anything to do with the same story (I don't know where the final story is, anyhow), and I can't remember what the prompt was at all... Just thought that it's intriguing to forget things so well.  And that I still have much of the same imagery for this now that I did when I wrote it.  (I think with images -- how do you think?)