Warner Should’ve Flown

The mountains that loomed ahead of Warner were quickly denuded of the vibrancy that remained of the fall leaves; leaves that still stubbornly had not fallen. Everyone told him he should’ve flown, but it was costly. He hated flying and besides, the view on his drive was spectacular. Most of the foothill trees had already molted their skin of leaves in preparation for their skeletal winter forms, painted in shades of brown and ash gray.