They sauntered along the path hand in hand, eying the trees bordering it with their bright reds and yellows and browns, and breathing in the pumpkin and banana bread scents.
The cool wind whipped their scarves, and they talked together, as intimately as a brother and sister. They spoke about the future, because that was all they cared about right now. They gazed at each other, remembering what sparked their love interest, and renewing that silly, blind love every once in a while. Because even with their maturity complimenting their attitudes, and their responsibility showing under the thoughtfulness radiating from under their faces- they were still young, and they made sure to show it.
The day grew longer with the shadows, and soon the hill they stood on cast a shadow over the woods and stream below them. The air, crisp like the leaves that fell around them, took their breath away, as did their conversation now and then. Grown-up and serious, they spoke of personality, and financial circumstances, and education, and differences of belief. And when the conversation grew too solemn, it took a turn down another lane, filled with reminiscing, but always memories that spoke of what was to be. Instances of things girls talk about when they congregate, and what boys do when they’re thick and mischievous; and then what boys and girls do when they are together.
How do you fit them with each other? they ask, wondering at the impossibility. The query encourages them to stomp their feet against the chilly night descending. The stars are beginning to show behind the multi-hued and dusk-streaked sky, so they rub shoulders on the bench and stand to head for the restaurant. As they continue along, talk returns to people’s compatibility. You’d think they were computer systems, from the way the man talked. And if you listened to the woman, an impression of abstract metaphor would impress upon your ears. It never works, is the agreement; Unless the subjects do resolve to work around their faults and gifts, and complement each other.
You would be perfectly content t to sit and listen to them ramble on about particulars and nonsensical notions, because you knew that when it is not rushed, love takes its time when there’s catching up to do. You cannot separate those who are tightly woven together, when they weave themselves with the softest of cords, into the most intricate of patterns. And there, on the sidewalk of that little town, under the sky of that autumn evening, hand in hand and heart to heart, you sigh for the honest love that results from friendship, and is, by far, the most beautiful Fall on earth.
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