The air is crisp now. So thin you can smell the leaves turn. Time for warm things. Soft things. Things that make your insides smile.
A cup of soup in a flannel blanket, a baked potato or two to share.
The scent of spices thick in the kitchen; paprika, chili, curry.
Anything to keep us cozy, to heat our hearts.
A sweater to walk down the street in.
Having to finally retire your flip-flops.
The awful sweeps-week television programming.
These are all the things I fucking loved, but then I experienced them with you.