The Fall

We never saw fall.

There’s something about October wind and the way it picks up leaves on empty streets. The way they twirl and dance occasionally, picked up by a gust of wind that hits the ground just so. And it makes us shiver and cross our arms and hurry along down the sidewalk. October moves too slowly: the days getting colder, my eyes getting sleepier, the nights getting longer.

“Do you like October?” she asked me then, as her arm gripped mine and the sunset behind us.

I paused for a while and listened to the sound of our footsteps on the sidewalk.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “It’s October — there’s not much to say about it.”

Cars passed us regularly, and across the street a woman walked her dog underneath a towering tree, almost bare. Clear garbage bags filled to capacity with colourful leaves sat at the end of every driveway.

“Oh no,” she said, almost whimsically, “There’s so so much. The leaves and the way the air feels and how –”

“It’s cold,” I said bluntly, unlinking my arm from hers to press my hands against my rapidly-reddening ears.

We stopped under a tree that cast a speckled shadow on the sidewalk. I looked at her bright eyes. She smiled, but only a little smile.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, “It does get cold.”

She took my hand away from my head and moved closer to me. We fell into each other. I smelled her hair and felt the softness against my face and her warmth against mine. I heard her mumble something against my shoulder, and pulled away and looked at her again.

She smiled warmly.

“October hugs,” she said, holding my hands with hers, “are special.”

I smiled back. “Special?” I said with mock confusion.

She leaped at me again, and we were once more in each other’s arms. “Special!” she exclaimed, “because now you can feel the warmth all through you. And that warmth is so…”

She paused as a car drove by. I held her tighter.

“Necessary. So needed. So true. Hugs are always good, but come October –”

I stopped her, kissing her forehead softly.

“October hugs,” I said softly to her hair.

“October hugs,” she said to my shoulder.

We stayed that way for a while, oblivious to passersby and the darkening sky. I held her until my arms started to hurt.

“We should go home,” I said softly.

“Yeah,” she said, as we slowly pulled apart and I took her hand.

“My favourite thing about October –” I began, and then paused as a leaf fell in front of us.

“My October girl.”

A white car passed beside us and kicked up a pile of leaves by the roadside. They twirled about in the cold air before settling once more into quiet nothingness, spread across the grass.