It struck him how beautiful it was as he walked out the door.

It was night, but the streetlight illuminated the autumn leaves of the tree. He stopped and gaped. The tree was bleeding the color of fall. And for a second, he thought that the tree would erupt into a glorious plume of crimson flame. And after which, God would speak to him. Tell him that it was wrong. To leave it alone. A divine edict.

But none of that happened.

And he walked after her.