Autumn.

She likes the rain. 

She likes the way the cool water droplets feel against her skin, trickling down her cheeks, kissing her skin, coating her hair. She likes standing in puddles, letting the rain drench her. She likes looking up at the dull sky, as the touch of the gentle, but equally bitter breeze graces her cheeks, kissing her lips. 

Hearing the sound of leaves crunch beneath the soles of her boots, makes her smile. Watching the faded green, bright yellow, rich red and fiery orange leaves sink in shallow puddles, falling from ancient, groaning trees, soaring in the breeze, washed away as if they were never there. 

Most people didn’t understand her fascination with Autumn. They didn’t understand why she liked the rain, why she liked being bundled up in blankets and thick coats. She didn’t like the cold weather, because she was sad, or depressed. No, she liked the snow, the rain, and the lush bright leaves that littered the Autumn floor, because it reminded her that all things start and end. 

And one day, just like the Winter turns to Spring, the Summer turns to Autumn, her problems would be washed away, lost in a deep sea, never to touch her again.

 

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