"Exhausted, she laid her head in my lap, and we wrapped ourselves in a shaggy cloak someone gave us, for the wind was cold; blown leaves floated on the river's grey surface."Winter's coming." I said.
"No," she said sleepily. "No, it's not."
"It has to sometime."
"No."
"Well, if winter..."
"Hush," she said."
---- John Crowley ---
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