Chapter 64 Dust Part One

• Jack
• The park looks different in the fall. Quieter. Golden, like it knows things are changing and doesn't mind. Leaves drift down in lazy spirals, covering the paths in copper and amber. The wind is cool, not sharp; it's just enough to make me zip my jacket halfway and pull Cami's hoodie up when she forgets to.
• She is seated beside me on the bench, her legs swinging back and forth in thick woollen socks and sneakers too new to be scuffed. In her lap is a half-finished bag of gummy worms she'd offered me a tiny bit of and a crumpled napkin she refuses to throw away until she finds "the perfect trash can." I let her be. She has her rituals.