A gust of wind rattled the windowpane, sending a flurry of leaves against the glass. Elias stopped dancing and smiled. The song was ending, but the cycle was not. The red leaves would fall, the snow would come, and eventually, the green buds of spring would return.
The song, "Punaiset lehdet," was their song. It spoke of how the summer's bloom must eventually fade into the cold embrace of winter. In his youth, Elias had found the melody romantic and sweeping. Now, in the silence of the cabin, it felt like a conversation with a ghost. Punaiset lehdet
The old record player crackled before the smooth, honey-toned voice of Olavi Virta filled the small cabin. Outside, the world was on fire. Not with flame, but with the crimson glory of a Finnish autumn. A gust of wind rattled the windowpane, sending