Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

It was worth it to be with him— WHEN HE DIED BY ANTHONY BLAKE STOOD IN A PARK AND stared at the leaves rustling about my feet. They were dead leaves, dry and sere, brittle and curled, and yet more colourful in death than they had ever been in life. The wind caught them and sent them scurrying over the faded grass in company with scraps of paper and the other inevitable litter of public places. It was a chill wind and I shivered a little as it bit through my clothing. I stared up at the sky, surprised at its emptiness, and around me at the few people walking in the park. They were, as I expected, but it was hard not to stare. Fashions change so quickly that what is admirable today is ludi- €rous tomorrow. They ignored me and I forgot them in the urgency of other things. The wind was wrong, the 29 leaves were wrong, the setting was right, but that was all. It should have been spring, with warm breezes and green leaves nodding above newly- bloomed flowers. The sky should have been bright and clear, not. sullen with rain- heavy clouds. I had arrived at the wrong time. Fear joined forces with the wind so that I shivered beyond all reason. Six months didn’t matter. Six months either too soon or too late and I would still be within the margin of safety. But if I had arrived so far from the determined point, then it need not be merely six months. It could be eighteen or thirty. One way wouldn’t matter, would be all to the good, but the Ginet.. vs I stooped and grabbed at a fragment of newspaper as it fluttered towards me. [ straightened and smoothed it comicloooks.com