Let me tell you the story of Branchy the branch.
He was a regular branch, on a regular tree, in a regular garden, on a regular street.
He had been here for a short while, but long enough to know that out here, even in the calm peaceful place, being a branch is dangerous business.
He knew tales of branches who were ripped off by children and harsh weather, and of fallen corpses of fellow twigs who are stepped on or man handled by the terrible humans.
He didn't have big dreams like some branches do, but he wasn't a daredevil twig who pushed the boundaries because they thought they were immortal.
He was just a simple independent branch with basic desires and no company needed.
Leaves weren't really his thing either. His friend on the tree next to him, Mr. Brown, was more of the social type. He considered himself a womanizer, breaking the hearts of countless leaves.
It wasn't until the summer, when Branchy found what he had been missing out on all of these months.
With the perfect conditions for photosynthesis, he grew close to a small group of leaves. Despite the advice of Mr Brown, he made friends with the leaves to protect anyone from unnecessary broken hearts.
Days turned into weeks and it was nearing the time Branchy was dreading most. Autumn (or fall depending on where you are from). Most of his friends were slowly turning old and brown. It pained him to see his friends like this.
As they progressed further into the season, his friends were dying one by one. Each time he was left a little more broken than before, crying a little longer and a little louder until there was one left and the pain became unbearable.
The last leaf however was stubborn, and even though they both new this time would come she developed feelings for the poor branch as she comforted him over the loss of their friends.
She had kept most of her colour even in the harsh conditions, but the sun rarely came out much and the warmth had left the air making her awfully sick and hungry.
Branchy tried and tried but there was nothing he could do to help her. He had asked advice from everyone who he thought would have the power to help him but was defeated.
Nature had played a cruel trick on him and his leaf lover as they had to part ways so soon.
He made the most of every day he had left with her in attempt to prevent the inevitable.
When the time came closer he wasn't prepared for the emotional torture he would go through. He wasn't ready to give up on them.
"If you love me, let me go." She whispered. And with that she drifted carefully away from Branchy onto the grass below.
And that, my friends, was the story of Branchy the mother fucking branch.
The End.
