The searing heat drove them inside to rest. Scavenging could wait until nightfall.

“Gran,” Caleb said, “tell me a story.”

She licked her dry lips, remembering other Octobers. “Leaves turned bright colors and fell from trees. We raked huge piles and jumped in.”

Caleb frowned. “Leaves? Trees? What are those?”

Joanne R. Fritz lives in West Chester, PA. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in various magazines. She blogs at My Brain on Books.