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Nitza Cheri
Seems that leaves are falling much faster these days. I try to comfort myself with the somewhat vibrant views of oranges, yellows and chestnut browns on each leaf through the window, but my eyes struggle to keep up with the cars accelerating speed. The road looks overwhelmingly collided; colors are mixed in from the lights beaming from the tails of each car. I can't even tell if the driver is speeding anymore. I feel a growing numbness from the motions of the car, every sign I see, passes with a blur in seconds. The closer we get to our destination, the more I become melancholy at the very thought. I feel that we are getting closer. I can see the jagged writing on each weather stained stone we pass, as we finally begin to slow down in front of our entrance. Every breath I took was crisp and chill from the passenger’s seat alone.
The sight of the rusted gates triggered a sensation, causing my heart to race. I noticed, with a brief gaze, the gates were mostly a dark, mossy green with the dried out silver paint chipping off of it. I didn't enjoy the excruciating sound of the afterlife as the doors opened to welcome us.