It was the last evening of October — a garden party at dusk, fairy lights caught in the ivy, the scent of something wild and sweet on the air. Rosalind was reading fortunes from fallen leaves, utterly serious about it. Everett thought she was the most ridiculous and captivating person he had ever seen.

He asked her what the leaves said about him. She looked up slowly, then back at the leaves. "They say you should stay," she told him. He did. He has never left.