Autumn

The words I read had no special meaning to me. They were just words; they meant something irrelevant. They were a tossaway comment from a stranger. They were not words I would save.

But they gave me a rush of warmth, flushing my cheeks and drawing a Mona Lisa smile. They spoke to me of autumn, of new beginnings, of nights touched by the crackle of frost and days clinging to the last late-afternoon sun. The words reminded me of evenings warmed by exotic teas, wool sweaters and thick winter blankets, when we would again sleep close together with only our noses exposed to the morning chill.