There's something about the sound of leaves crunching under my feet that makes me want to explore. Almost everything about fall has a feeling to it of starting over.
The faint smell of decay from fallen leaves reminds me of building a raft with her, back when we had nothing more to worry about than where to get string to hold together our fallen tree branches.
Chilly nights remind me of digging out our trench coats and galloping to the convenience store down the road to buy slushies, back when I was still interesting to him and he wasn't too jaded to gallop. "Race ya!" he chanted over his shoulder while trot/gallop/plodding through the fallen leaves.
Playing mindless endless hours of one on one basketball as we talk about what the fuck we're going to do with our lives, where we're going, and how we can help one another get there.
Showing up at his house unexpected at 9am, curling up in his bed (back when he had one) with him, and feeling him growing aroused as we kissed and my fingers tangled themselves in his hair.
Walking cold streets alone, crunching through the leaves as quietly as I can to increase my chances of hearing someone crunching up behind me. Stopping suddenly every so often to see if footsteps followed me.
Dumpster diving with the group and standing at the park for hours in the cold giving away soup that looked like baby shit and enough potatoes to make a keg of vodka.
Giving up on our hopelessly annoying living situation, buying a car, and fleeing town like bats out of hell.
Thinking again and again that the coming year would be the best, that this time and these people were what I'd been waiting for, and that finally we'd change something.