
Butterfly


Summer was over. Daylight was becoming more and more scant. While the days were still fairly warm, the nights were growing colder. Already the leaves on the trees were changing color, falling to the ground, creating a soft carpet on the forest floor, filling the air with the pungent odor of decay.
For Pirouette, it was a sad time. It seemed that all of the bad things that ever happened to her occurred in the Autumn. It was hard for not to wait for the other shoe to drop at this time of year. Looking at GarGar, asleep in his reading chair with an open book in his lap, she thanked God for the hundredth time for bringing him into her life. Here was somebody who loved her for who she was, not for her wealth and power. For the thousandth time, she crossed herself and asked God to bless him.
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