She leaned her head out of the car window and smiled. Nightime in late August is a curious thing. The air seems to stand still due to humidity and there is a quietness about. The only real sound is the insect symphony. But sometimes if you listen close you can hear the grass growing.
The muggy air wrapped itself around her, she could feel it laying on top of her skin. August air will do that to you. People hate it but there is no feeling to rival it. Because August holds a secret. The secret that fall is coming.
She breathed in deeply and inhaled all the smells that August 20th had to offer. She caught a whiff of something both well-known and new at the same time. The smell of sweaters, leaves, water, horses, smoke, and old books with yellow pages. She always anticipated the fall. Most say that spring is the time of rebirth and new beginnings, but she strongly believed that fall is.
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