In November in London, the rain always falls without warning.
Lynn stood under the eaves of the subway station, holding a semi dry long handled umbrella in her hand. At the end of the morning rush hour, the crowd surged like a gray tide, with leather shoes tapping on the wet asphalt road, making small and hurried sounds. He had just finished an unpleasant morning meeting, his tie tightened a bit, and his mind was still swirling with cold words about “efficiency” and “stop loss”.
Just then, a leaf fell down.
It is not the kind of crisp yellow leaves, but a leaf of oak tree with slightly curled edges and a hint of dark red veins. It didn’t fall straight to the ground, but was carried by the wind and spun in mid air. Finally, it remained even and gently pressed against Lin En’s dark gray coat shoulder.
Lin En was stunned for a moment.
He instinctively raised his hand, his fingertips touching the slightly cool texture of the leaf veins. The touch was light, yet like an untimely pause, stubbornly stuck in his tense nerves.
He lifted his head. Above the head was an old oak tree, its branches stretching out under the gray and white sky, like some kind of silent skeleton. The gust of wind just now was probably its sigh.
The crowd around is still in a hurry. A woman in a beige trench coat was looking down at her phone and almost bumped into a lamp post; A boy carrying a huge piano case was waiting for a red light, tapping his toes unconsciously. No one noticed this leaf, nor did anyone notice Lynn’s pause at this moment.
In this city forest cut by steel and glass, this fallen leaf is like a small accident, a purposeless gift from nature.
It doesn’t require Lynn to do anything, doesn’t require him to immediately pick himself up, and doesn’t require him to reflect on life. It just landed there, completing its journey from the branch to the ground and resting on his shoulder for a second.
Lynn suddenly felt that the tie didn’t seem so tight anymore.
He gently picked up the leaf, didn’t throw it away, but casually tucked it into the notebook he carried with him. The soft sound of the paper closing is like a gentle closing statement.
The green light is on.
Lynn put away her umbrella and took a step into the crowd. The raindrops are still drifting, but he is no longer in a hurry to rush. He knew that the leaf would be there, quietly continuing its journey on some forgotten page.
And he is no exception.
Some things don’t have to reach anything, falling is a kind of arrival in itself.
