Of Crimson Leaves and Foggy Mornings
The first day of November brought with it the comfort of apricity- the warmth of the sun in winter. The air was crisp and laid with the earthy scent of fallen leaves. The sky hung low, cloaked in a veil of soft, smoky hue with amber streaks peaking out and casting a glow on the sleepy streets of my hometown.
On the idle road facing the science museum, a quiet couple took their morning walk. Their hands intertwined, offering each other warmth on a chilly morning. They seemed to be in their own world, their quiet conversation harmonizing with the crunch of leaves underneath their feet.
Now, the sun had risen up, casting its soft golden glow on the windows of the bus. As it made its way through the empty roads, the chatter of students and the faint hum of the engine were the only noises that filled the air. The bus grew closer to the school and the fog began to clear up, revealing the familiar red building. The gate opened up and trees guided the route to the entrance.
As I got down, the coldness engulfed me almost instantly. I walked into the campus with my hands burrowed deep in my pockets and regretted my decision of not wearing more layers. Others must’ve thought so too – judging by their hurried steps, red noses and the visible puffs that came from each breath.
The first day of November seemed to be a bridge between fall and winter, a transient moment when the two seasons fleetingly intertwined.
By: Aaria Somani
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