“Why Fall?” Quincy asked as she leaned over a rail that was, itself, leaning over the cliffside. “Why all this—” she hesitated, looking for the right word as she moved her eyes towards him, “exuberance?” “Because the fall is when all good things are made manifest.” Arch waved his hand as if he were the beneficent spirit of the season. “The harvests are come on, rolling into the city, a message of bounty and abundance. The trees are turning, their color revealing their most beautiful intentions, kept to themselves all year long until now.” He paused, turned, and looked at Quincy with a
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