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“I am the most special leaf. I willed myself green, garnet, and golden. You can’t tell me what to do!”

The autumn wind blows the self-made leaf off his tree branch.

From the forest floor, the leaf looks up at his once home, the mighty oak tree.

Through the disconnect with all he had known, he finally sees. He sees he was always part of something bigger, something more complex, something more beautiful than just himself.

As he slowly turns brown around his edges, he senses his impending death and whispers, “I am sorry. Thank you!”

“I am too special to spend a whole afternoon raking leaves. Mom and Dad just don’t get it. They only think they can tell me what to do!”

The self made boy resentfully rakes and bags all the leaves readying them for incineration.