november seventeenth two thousand and eight anno domini
lovely.
the air is cold, but not so cold that it stings. Your breath is visible, but barely, only if you exhale hard. Steam rises in a perfect mushroom from one of the buildings and disperses as you watch, blossoming, throwing spores into stars. You bought a croissant, warm, yeasty, but what you didn't know was that it was full of raspberry cream cheese. You're breathing in crisp air, and it smells far-off smoky, the way only autumn does, and your mouth is full with warm pastry. And earlier, when you surprised her with the sound of her own name, she said, "How strange, I was just thinking about you."
the air is cold, but not so cold that it stings. Your breath is visible, but barely, only if you exhale hard. Steam rises in a perfect mushroom from one of the buildings and disperses as you watch, blossoming, throwing spores into stars. You bought a croissant, warm, yeasty, but what you didn't know was that it was full of raspberry cream cheese. You're breathing in crisp air, and it smells far-off smoky, the way only autumn does, and your mouth is full with warm pastry. And earlier, when you surprised her with the sound of her own name, she said, "How strange, I was just thinking about you."