Day 589

The leaves haven't stopped falling yet though it's almost January.
We haven't seen clear blue skies since late March.
The memory of sunlight on your skin fades quickly.
Now there are only brief periods where the skies are deep grey instead of pitch black.

Everyone else seems to be carrying on their lives just fine.
The leaves continue to fall, piling up like an autumnal snowstorm.
Large nets are attached to the trees with hopes that they'll catch the leaves.
It isn't more than three days before they break and the streets become flooded with debris.

No amount of sweeping or raking can clear the pathways and roads.
The entire city is soon stranded, buried beneath densely packed leaves.
Your flat on the 2nd floor has been in the dark for just about a week.
Leaves cover the windows, rustling to an unheard breeze.

The air around you feels stiff and stale but so does everywhere else in the apartment block.
Sometimes you open the windows a crack to catch even the faintest whiff of fresh air.
You are met only by the leaves and their musty scent.
Still they rustle outside, like they are being moved.

Some days you wonder if people have made it outside and are swimming through the foliage.
You would gladly join them, just for that cold clean air outside.
Last night somebody tapped on door, or so you thought.
You found their lifeless grey corpse pressed against your window, mouth and eyes full of leaves.

They seemed to twitch, face contorting and forcing out a spray of debris against your window.
Their hand jerked back and slammed into the glass with enough force to crack it.
Fleeing without a second thought you begged a night's stay with a neighbour on floor five.
You thought you were safe too, until something hit their door with enough force to splinter it.