This is a story my friend wrote and posted on his FaceBook page as a status, this is EXACTLY what he wrote, word for word:
“If you’re going to read any of this you have to read the whole thing. Commit. Or at least get to the part where Mirabelle is introduced and then skip to the last sentence. It’s pretty good anyway. And yes, I wrote it.
Just as the last vividly colored papery leaf of autumn fell from its now barren tree, the white powder of winter began to fall as well, gently covering the streets of Paris, France in a white fluffy blanket of snow. A man enjoying a nice warm cup of coffee nearby happened to see the leaf fall, and, having nothing much better to do, picked it up off the café’s wooden patio. He was a tall man of slightly slender figure at age 24. His hair was thick and brown, and long enough to occasionally poke his left eye, which, like his right, was a resplendent shade of blue. His thinly rimmed glasses sat on the tip of his nose, and they looked quite well with his scarf and coat. His name was Leon, and he was a very intelligent and artistic man. As he lifted the leaf from the thin sheet of snow, he noticed a woman looking at him on the sidewalk by the café. She was tall and slender, much like Leon, and she was of age 23. Her most striking characteristics were her effervescent green eyes, and her long lusciously curly brown hair. Her lips seemed to always be curved slightly upwards in a playful little smile, that or she found the fact that Leon had gone out of his way to pick up a leaf amusing. Her name was Mirabelle, and she was also very intelligent. Upon seeing her, Leon smiled and said “It’s not every day you see someone get up from their coffee just to take an unimportant little leaf from the ground, is it?” Mirabelle smiled at him and blushed, a little embarrassed that she had been caught staring. Leon took a couple steps closer and held the leaf up for her to see. “This is one of the last leaves of autumn, you know. The leaves that fall last are always the most beautiful.” Mirabelle, still smiling and blushing, nodded in agreement with a small “Mhmm.” Then Leon gently took her hand, placed the leaf in it, and told her “There was a very smart man that once said: ‘A beautiful woman is like a leaf in autumn. Noticeable, lovely, and delicate. Each leaf is unique in its own way, you’d never find 2 leaves that looked exactly the same no matter how hard you looked. But every single one of them is absolutely perfect.’” Mirabelle blushed until her cheeks turned crimson, and her smile grew even bigger. “Who said that?” she asked. Leon smiled “Me. Just now.” And then they both got hit by a bus and died.”
Fare thee well!