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So rare is Eugene’s interest in venturing outside of the tropical lands he grew up in that he doesn’t actually remember the last time it happened. Long enough that he is slightly surprised at the chill in the air when he does, and that not all the trees are green.
This last fact is perplexing him, and he’s been standing near one of the oaks in the meadow for a long time, alternating squinting and staring at the red leaves that are rustling in the afternoon wind. He’s seen plenty of red plants, sure, but they’re usually flowers.
There’s some faint memories in the back of his mind of the last time he had visited the more temperate regions - but he had been young then, and he doubts the accuracy of his memory. He had also once thought Donny could turn into a chipmunk - and fretted over how they would take care of any future chipmunk nieces and nephews (they must be so easy to step on!).
But here were the bright reds, oranges, and browns of the trees looking very real - so did that mean if one memory was true the others were?
A small frown creases Eugene’s face as he continues to look up at the tree, the way the red seems to stand out a little brighter against the cool grey of the autumn sky, and glares at it for making him question what he knew to be true.
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