I drove my car slowly up Euclid, then left on Oakland. The trees were taller than I remembered. The last time I had seen them, they were streaked with orange and yellow, spotted with red. My mind was expecting a full flush of color, but those days were past for this year. The leaves that remain were mostly brown, dangling from the bigger branches. The smaller branches were bare. Those smaller branches were all new since I last drove this way. The sun was midway down in the west. The light was blocked by some of the trees. That was certainly a new thing. None of the trees used to be tall enough to block the sun at three thirty in the afternoon. I had looked up to see if she was still living in our house. Every search showed me no new address associated with her name. I assumed the kids had started school. I hadn't quite figured out how to find out where without being picked up as a creep.