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The crisp October air reminds Angela that summer is gone, and autumn is whirling in with the red, yellow, and orange signs of change, evolving from the bright greens and saturated, clear sky blues of the months that have since passed.
Striding over the fallen leaves, Angela can hear a pleasant crunch beneath her Converse and Amanda's loafers. They're walking together, following the winding path along the river. Emerald green pine, chartreuse leaves of the silver birch, and gold of the larch and poplar trees speckle the walkway. Angela welcomes the change. Fall is a time to step out of routine—daylight savings, falling back an hour, time to substitute a graphic tee for a comfy, oversized hoodie, or perhaps a baseball cap for a crocheted tuke.
Angela also loves scarves, not as much as an accessory but a tool: she can reel Amanda in for a kiss, dragging the taller woman down and closer to her.
Amanda loves scarves, too, and fall is the perfect time to wear them: it's an excuse to hide the royal red and honey-brown hickies that trail from the side of her neck to her clavicle.
But fall isn't just the first four colours of the rainbow; it also exists between the shades of grey and cooler tones of the season. The coloured leaves fade away as quickly as a breath escapes her lips, and white mist rises and dissolves into the atmosphere as the days grow colder. The ceiling becomes more clouded, and overcast skies obscure the sun.
Sometimes, the chilly air feels heavier—perhaps it's the condensation or fog that lies upon the roads in the mornings, or maybe it's something that Angela is struggling to communicate to Amanda as they walk side-by-side by the river. Angela doesn't mind getting closer to Amanda to latch onto her arm when it grows colder.
There's one thing that autumn brings much more of, too: Rain.
The first time Amanda and Angela went for a walk in the rain, they got caught in the downpour at the tail end of their stroll. It may have been poorly timed or perfectly timed; who knows? Regardless, the rain brought them closer together, and Angela tried to use her polyester bomber jacket to shield them from the rain. It didn't work to repel the rain, but Amanda appreciated the gesture. They laughed the entire way home. When they finally arrived at Angela's flat, they had no choice but to shed their clothes and exchange them for something warmer.
When it rains, Angela is happy to see Amanda holding an umbrella by her side because she knows Amanda will disappear when the sun shines. Under their umbrella, the rain tapping away on their small, dry shelter, she has an excuse to be close. So she snuggles in closer to Amanda, basking in her warmth. There's a desire to be there—to linger like the intimacy of their shared space. To linger like the dewdrops upon the grass in the mornings after rainfall.
Yeah. Angela loves the rain.
But not long after, sometimes, like a blizzard, comes the snow.
When it snows, it's time to break out time by the fireplace, hot cocoa, knit sweaters, and down jackets. In the gentle snowfall, the white blanket that layers the streets, Amanda sometimes allows Angela into her wool peacoat, allowing Angela to stand in front of her when it gets frosty—and it's the type of frosting that tastes sweet.
The more the temperature falls, the warmer Angela feels. As winter comes, Angela falls deeper into Amanda's arms. The weather transitions from the sunshine, precipitates into the rain, and crystalizes into snow, making it easier for them to be close. Daylight dwindles, and nights grow longer, meaning they can spend more time wondering what they can do in the dark, trying on all the dirty thoughts that they share.
A pleasant shiver electrifies their bodies as the temperature drops below freezing. Water expands into ice, growing and connecting the molecules to solidify into the bond that holds them both together, covalent and seemingly unbreakable, with their arms and legs tangled together. Even when they melt, they melt together.
It's funny how they peel off layers of clothing only to feel warmer when their skin is pressed against each other. Their sweat and bitter, erratic breaths are as hot as freshly brewed dark roast coffee. After a taste, they feel as sweet as the cream that stirs within each other.
The coldest days remind them of each other's warmth.