later.

Later.

LATER.

“The word rattled around in his head — like a pocket full of coins. Every morning, he'd grab his pick and would look at the Mayor's house, expecting to see his old friend, his creator.

It had been so long now that the house was covered in moss and vines. Leaf shuffled through his memories and couldn't remember when that had started.

Later is Now.

Gathering his courage, Leaf tosses his pickaxe aside and takes a few hesitant steps toward the building. Has it been months or years? Leaf isn't sure; he has spent so much time hoping, wishing that this was all just a nightmare.

But Leaf can't dream.

The door creaks open, the air is stale and foul, the stench of rot clings to every surface; a warm, putrid blanket.

The plates are unmoved, but they contain the first signs of life that Leaf had seen since he last saw... Them. The plates molded over; any sign of the food is long since gone. The mug of coffee, no longer steaming, also molded over.

"They really are gone..." Leaf mutters to himself. In this moment, he knew, if he could cry, if his body could form tears, he would be. "Everyone... Everything..."

His eyes shutter closed and back open, flickering dimly. Leaf screams and flips the table; after all he had done for this man, for this town — The town left HIM? This town wouldn't have, couldn't exist without him.

The table, along with the plates, shatters against the wall, showering the room with fragments of wood, ceramics, and long-forgotten food.

Leaf then turns, puffing steam through the cracks in his body, as he stomps over to a picture frame.

THE picture frame.

Leaf thrusts his hand forward, punching the frame, shattering the glass. He notices something he didn't notice before, himself. He is in the picture. Leaf lets out another scream, this time not in anger, but pain.

The pain he pushed down until now, the pain that has kept him going. Leaf turns the picture over in his hand, on the back, in a handwriting he immediately recognizes: "My loving family, Sarah, Nomad, and Leaf. The son I could never have."

Leaf sits there, staring at the picture for what feels like days, before he finally stands. Leaf knows now: His creator didn't forget him, his creator loved... No, loves him.

Leaf tucks the picture into his pocket,

Later is Now.