by Z.W.

November, a time of transition. When the last crimson leaf falls and the first snow makes itself comfortable. When the last bird takes to the skies for warmer places, when the first anxious holiday-goers pull out the dusty decorations. People change too in November. For better or worse, something gets into them, and they reinvent the world. Novembers will always happen, along with Januarys and Junes and leap years and time, and there's no way to stop it from happening and then happening again.


Z.W. feels like Novembers should never happen. Z.W. fears for the next one. Z.W. is afraid of change, and she doesn't like being lied to. Z.W. has had her heart broken twice, but she still laughs. Z.W. has learned that time doesn't stop for November, it still moves on.