It's cold out, just like any other day. There are clouds in the sky, but the sun manages to peek out, grey light filtering down. There are leaves on the ground, more black than red, or orange. The trees look like skeletons, arms ever-reaching toward the sky, but never grabbing anything.

Leah is sitting on the top step of her back porch, wearing only a white slip and brown cowboy boots. Her legs touch at the knees, feet pointing at each other. Her arms are crossed and resting on a black box on top of her lap. Her eyes are closed.

The wind around her whistles, sweeps up her hair, twists and tangles it with its force. She's barely breathing.

Inside, the doorbell chimes. Leah doesn't make a move.

The wind slows, then halts altogether. She can hear a slow, sappy love song playing from the end of the block.

The doorbell rings again. But instead of patient silence, she hears the door creak open. Shoes hit the wood floor, their volume increasing with their proximity. The back door opens, and then there's one more thud of shoes against wood.

"I rang the doorbell," he says.

Jacob.

The wind picks up again. Leaves dance in circles, rustling as they go. Jacob takes one stride closer to Leah, then sits down next to her. His legs are so long, he has to put his feet on the step below hers. Their ankles are touching, and it's almost too much heat for her to bear.

"They're all wondering about you," he says. "They're all wondering where you went."

Leah inhales, exhales. She opens her eyes, turns her head to face him. "Well, you found me."

A sad smile crosses Jacob's face. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Leah laughs. "For what?" He pauses, shakes his head, then shrugs. She purses her lips, then turns back to face her yard. Jacob does the same. "It's been windy all day," she says. "Do you think it will rain?"

Jacob looks up and around. "Maybe," he says. "That would suck." He turns to face Leah again. His eyes scan up and down her body. He notices she's not wearing the same thing she was an hour ago. He notices the nondescript black box on her lap. Jacob nods his head toward it. "What's the box for?" he asks.

Leah abruptly looks down, as if she didn't even know it was there. She takes it in one of her hands, struggles against its weight, and sets it down on the step next to her foot.

"Are you going back to the party?" she asks him.

Jacob thinks for a second, purses his lips, then shakes his head. "No. The food's gone. So is the beer. That's what you get for feeding a whole pack of wolves."

A smile creeps across her lips. "While you're here, could you do me a favor?" she asks. Jacob nods his head.

Leah jumps up from the porch and sprints to the tool shed in the corner of the yard. She disappears inside for a second, but returns with two rakes in one hand, and a grill lighter in the other.

"Help me rake up these leaves before it gets windy again," she yells from across the yard.

Jacob steals a glance at the black box, then jumps up to join her. Leah hands him the rake, sticks the lighter in her left boot, and together, they gather the leaves.

Together, they make an odd picture. Leah's only wearing a slip and cowboy boots, her hair is knotted, and her knees are dry. Jacob's wearing dress shoes, his nicest black slacks, and a white button up shirt, only buttoned up half way, and bunched at the elbows.

They work quickly, and soon enough, there is a large pile of leaves in the center of Leah's backyard. Leah throws her rake to the side, and Jake does the same.

She approaches the pile and grabs the lighter out of her boot. She picks up one leaf, lights it up, and throws it onto the others. Its affect is slow, so Leah puts the lighter right onto the pile of leaves.

Soon enough, the whole pile is aflame. Jacob stands in front of it, feels its heat on his body. The smell of burning leaves drifts to his nose, almost makes him gag.

"Wait here and watch the fire," Leah says. Black smoke rises from the flames. Jacob can hear applause from down the street. Leah returns, black box in hand.

She opens it, and Jacob steals a look inside.

There are pictures, but he can't see what they're of. There are folded up pieces of paper, but he can't read what they say. Leah picks one up between her thumb and forefinger. Her face goes completely blank as she studies the picture. A second later, her eyebrows knit together, and then she crumples it up and throws it onto the fire.

She does this for more pictures, and more notes, more than Jacob can keep track of.

The wind picks up again. He looks up to the sky. The clouds have turned black. A storm is coming.

Leah pays no mind to the weather, just continues to throw pictures onto the fire. Jacob keeps switching his gaze between her and the sky.

Soon enough, it starts to rain. Leah doesn't seem to notice, until the fire begins to flicker. In a mad rush, she throws the whole box onto the fire.

There's a crack of thunder. The rain feels like bullets on Jacob's skin. The fire is completely out now, but the box and its remains are still intact. He looks up to Leah, her hair soaked. Even through the rain he can tell that she's crying. He can't decide if she looks pathetic or beautiful. He switches his gaze to the box. Inside, he can see a picture of Sam and Leah in her bedroom. A picture of Sam and Leah on the beach. A note with the name "Sam" written in loopy cursive. Hundreds and hundreds of the same.

He looks back up to Leah, whose slip is completely soaked through. It's clinging to her naked body, and Leah is shivering. Whether it's from the cold of the rain, or from her crying, he's not sure.

For some reason, Jacob has the impulse to reach his hand out to her, to comfort her, to protect her. Without thinking, he grabs Leah by the crook of her arm, and pulls her with a force he doesn't intend. She almost collapses into him. He holds her tightly in his arms.

"It's okay," he whispers, stroking the back of her hair. Leah's violent shivers rattle through his own body.

Down the street, Jacob can hear echoes of "To Sam and Emily!"