Brilliant, exuberant! Golden rods of sunlight dance off the lush, green grass, and the tall bouncing trees. Winter break is in two weeks: the soft, kind giggles of children echo through the halls of trees. Silence. A couple, on a cold, wooden bench share a kiss. Bliss. A light- cold chill sweeps through, rustling the golden-brown leaves that lie on the ground; the tips of your fingers and nose tingle with the feeling of the icy wind. Business men, yapping. Artists and writers, scratching. With every step in the freshly, watered grass, the smell of damp Earth rising to your nostrils. In the distance, children play on a red-and-blue swing set. The swings, rusty, squeaking with every gently glide forward and back. A dog barks, their owner jogging beside him. The goldens beams vanish, and then, silence. No more laughs. No more couples. Only darkness. The bouncing trees. And the golden-brown leaves.
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