Somewhere in him, a shadow turned mournfully over. You had to run with a night like this so the sadness could not hurt
I'll be damned if death wears my sadness for glad rags.
He had never liked October. Ever since he had first lay in the autumn leaves before his grandmother's house many years ago and heard the wind and saw the empty trees. It had made him cry, without a reason. And a little of that sadness returned each year to him. It always went away with spring. But, it was a little different tonight. There was a feeling of autumn coming to last a million years. There would be no spring. ("The October Game")