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Summary
A leaf, frozen in midair, silhouetted against the blue sky. But a leaf does not just remain aloft in the air. It is the nature of a leaf to drift down slowly, borne here and there according to the whims of the wind.
This leaf though was not alone.
It was held in the hand of a tall, gangly legged, curly haired boy. He was standing in the middle of the park, mittened hand holding the leaf above his head, a faint smile turning up his mouth as he studied the leaf in his outstretched hand.
And Louis wanted to know him.