When I walk around town during autumn, I see things that I don’t particularly notice during the other three seasons.

     For instance, people cradle hot drinks between their fingers, scarves wrap around their necks and dangle near their collarbones, and some hold each other’s hands. They hold hands and it reminds me of the time our fingers were intertwined, when our hands were tangled together so messily, and neither of us wanted to let go, but we did anyway.

     Sweaters and jackets are more prevalent, mittens envelop children’s tiny hands as they play outside, and some wear beanies that graze against their forehead. They graze against their foreheads and it reminds me of the time your pressed yours against mine, leaning in closer and closer, trying to close the gap between us in the slowest but most beautiful way possible; why did we draw away?

     The wind blows and makes a mess out of everybody’s hair, and the chill of the air makes their hands feel like ice so, to warm up, they often bring a cup of coffee to their lips. They bring it to their lips and it reminds me of the time your lips found mine, when the gap between us finally closed and our mouths moved together in such a delicate yet avid way; our kiss ended prematurely even though neither of us wanted it to.

     And another thing about fall is that everything changes. The sun doesn’t shine as much and the temperature drops and the air nips at your skin until goosebumps appear. The towns become less crowded as the cold weather sets in and even the trees know that it is time for an adjustment. The colors evolve, and the greenery inevitably turns into a swirl of orange and yellow and red.

The leaves are changing and so are our feelings; it’s autumn in our hearts, too.