The night was growing darker. Everything was very calm just like a reptile hibernates, in winters. The cold breeze was touching the leaves, weakening them and making them fall all over the bare earth.
"Oh my poor child, you are crying again." a faint, old voice broke the silence of the black night. It was Mr. Peterson's voice.
Fiona replied, "I am not crying, I just came to check if smith needs a blanket. It is cold enough"
Mr. Peterson murmured with his dry lips "I wish, he could tell us about the blanket."
Fiona was staring at Mr. Peterson with her blue eyes. Her blue eyes were looking even more blue with the empty darkness.
"It is very cold, and bitterly cold for your old bones" said Fiona to Mr. Peterson. "Lets get back to home." She said again.
Fiona felt the emptiness and sorrow of Mr. Peterson's life. She doesn't want to hurt Smith's father more. She took off the coat and put it on Mr. Peterson's shoulders.
"I am fine, my child." said Mr. Peterson.
"I know Sir, but the cold isn't fine today." she replied and took him back to home.
"Smith was my only child, his mother died when he was very young. I brought him up alone and I always thought it will be Smith, who will come to put white roses on my grave. I never knew that it will be me, putting autumn leaves on my young baby's grave." Said Mr. Peterson while walking and wiping away his cold tears.
"This is life, opposite to what we believe." replied Fiona.
She opened the door, went inside the home and took Mr. Peterson to his bed.
"Good night sir."