Pumpkins, changing leaves, and bonfires are well and good, but they're not what's best about fall. That designation goes autumn mornings. They reach perfection when the sun peeks blindingly over the horizon, loud and brittle, over frosted grass and rooftops. The air is just cold enough to show us our breath while allowing us a moment of thanks that winter has not yet come. The world is quiet. Life is still.
Autumn offers the kind of morning that can only be properly met with the rib-sticking breakfast from some greasy spoon diner. The kind of place that serves black coffee, darkened further from an extended sit on the pot warmer; biscuits and gravy so thick I can feel them still sliding toward my stomach around lunch time; hashbrowns fried in 50 year old grease, and seasoned with a sprinkling of ash from the tattoo-covered cook's cigarette.
There is magic in such mornings that, by comparison, make other hallmarks of fall appear like little more than parlor tricks performed by an amateur magician.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
This Heart Got Teeth
Truyện NgắnDrabbles. Flash fiction. Shorts. One shots. Call them what you will. Conatined here are stories that come and go quickly, passing in barely the span of a blink. Catch them if you can.
