For pumpkins and autumn leaves..

{She panted slightly, as she walked up the slightly winding path to her home. Her boots were wet with all that dew, her Gryffindor muffler wrapped twice around her neck and she wished nothing more than to hold her cat against her horribly cold nose.
There was a faint pumpkin spice in the air, a lingering smell of hope and Halloween. Starbucks was also back with it’s peppermint hot chocolate. Leaves were turning that delicious shade of orange and red, hummingbirds hung around longer in the backyard and the neighbour’s tiny dog didn’t start barking at 6 in the morning everyday.
She huffed a little more and pressed an uncomfortable smile as she passed through a crowd of interlaced fingers and shared pumpkin lattes, into the coffee shop. She liked calling it the ‘concoction shop’, since they served more flavoured concoctions than actual coffee. She also believed herself to be utterly clever for coming up with that name. Her remained in disagreement and the cat simple purred. 
“Pardon me. Just a moment please.”, She walked on, hustling through. Her spotted her from a distance - that wonderful mess of residual autumn emotions.
“Hey!”, She heard Her and turned around, almost knocking over the ostentatiously orange October decorations. Walking over to Her She grumbled, “Just a simple bloody coffee. Who knew it would be SO hard to get?”
Her tilted her head, “So, we haven’t had a great day?”
“Not so much as not great, as bland. It was a nothing day.” She knew if there was one person in the world who could make sense of this, it was Her. Her blinked, twisted her face and jumped up from her chair. Taking She’s arm, Her walked out.
“I haven’t gotten my coffee yet, woman!” She protested.
Her wouldn’t have any of it. Barely 2 minutes away from home, they walked on. “You’re not God”, She smirked as she said this. Her raised her brow and looked at She, “What?”
“No they usually say ‘God works in mysterious ways’ and so do you. But you’re not god, yknow.” She tried to keep that smirk from swelling into a full blown smile.
“Nope. Not clever.” Her cooed.
“Rubbish! It was REALLY clever” said She.
“Maybe Hermione clever, but not Sherlock clever.”
“As you may have noticed, I do NOT have a magnifying glass in my hand or Martin Freeman by my side.”
“You also don’t have a wand or a boy wizard by your side.”
“I have the scarf.”
Her glanced at the scarf She was holding out proudly. She shook her head slightly, “Of course. Now all you need is your Hogwarts invitation. You certainly already have an upper hand with the uniform.”
Sadly, their banter collapsed once they reached their doorstep and saw their chubby little cat strutting about the door, waiting for them.
Her headed straight for the kitchen as She dug her nose into the cat’s neck. The cat happily let She go through with her daily ritual. She slowly started unwrapping the scarf, never letting go of the cat.
Her coughed lightly and She looked up to see Her holding a big cup of coffee. Her handed it to she and took the cat in her arms. She took a little sip, “You added chocolate!” Her smiled and pushed the penguin blanket towards She.
“Harry met Sally or The Holiday?”
She’s eyes lit up and the sparing mist from the garden had settled in her eyes. Fall was here.}

For red cardigans and chilli flakes..

{She sewed the button onto her red cardigan, thinking to herself how lovingly she had bought it from the vintage store and now it just hung in the back of her wardrobe like the shameful face of a cheating lover. Sighing, she looked at the other torn threads. Why did she buy a cheap little cardigan with no buttons?

She must get rid of her DIY fixation soon.

Then the door bell rang making her prick her index finger with the needle, as was tradition.

Sucking on her finger, her feet circled around looking for the slippers.

The doorbell rang a second time.

"Yes yes I'm coming!" Something about the bell ringing more than once in a minute made her temples throb.

Her feet gave up their losing treasure hunt and she begun walking towards the door, tip-toeing, careful to make as little contact with the floor as possible.

As she opened the door, on the other side stood the pizza delivery guy. He wasn't entirely bothered with the restlessness that resonated in her voice. All he cared about was that he got the pizza to her in one piece... or 6, and she gave him a nice tip.

A picture of complete lack of grace, balancing herself on her toes and some faith, she took her pizza, thanking the guy for being such a peach. She handed out a $5 bill as he beamed.

Closing the door, she returned to her table and lay the pizza box, casting the cardigan aside.

And then she saw them. Chili flakes. Stuck shamelessly at the edging of the box along with paper napkins.

She hated chili flakes. And he loved them.

The red cardigan will suffer brutal sewing torment.}

For yellow dresses and grey..

{She was sure the flowery yellow dress would help brighten her sunken face. But it wouldn't lend any lusture to her desolate eyes. Perhaps a dab of rouge? Or copious amounts of "lash strong" mascara?

Although, that always made her lashes too stiff. Impossible to blink without snapping them into half.

Her contemplations were living and dying several deaths in her head when Her walked in with a big bag of cheetos. In her defence, Cheetos was what the world needed to stay calm. She believed it's the stuff Her smoked before eating Cheetos, that made all the difference.

Any which way, Her stood in the hallway, staring at She and the wheels turning in her head.

"Hey".. She heard that faint, raspy voice. She turned to break into a smile that was a product of relentless practice. But Her had seen that smile too many times to know how tired and weak it was. Her raised her brow.

"What?", came the defensive reply of She. "I know what you're doing. It's not gonna work! I'm not thinking about anything."

And now Her smiled her mysterious smile. This one, She knew well too. It was the smile Her smiled when she asked a question, knowing fully well it's answer.

"Actually", begun Her non-chalantly, "I wasn't gonna ask 'what' you were thinking about. It was more along the lines of who."

She took a deep breath and wore a grey dress.} 

For love and somewhat similar..

|You’re going to be the ‘other woman’. You’ll be the booty call, the 4 am tragedy, the best-friend, the friend zoned, the hated, the one-sided lover, the cross-connection. You’ll be the deserted, the way-too-many-martinis, the off-shoot side kick, the lost little wanderer..
You’ll risk getting royally fucked because you thought it was real. You will fuck someone over because it wasn’t real enough for you. You’ll be the awkward one, the seductress, the lonely nights on a crumpled sheet..
And if you’re really, really lucky.. you’ll be the one.

For mists and memories..

{She looked out her window to see the sun throwing a bleak tantrum to stay for a few more minutes. It was that one moment which one would normally miss but for a reason beyond reasoning, she happened to have caught it today. 
The moment stuck between dusk and dark. The silence stuck between truth and lie. The relation stuck between friend and lover. 
And she whispered to the sun, 'It's alright now. We're all travelling through the mist of time. Sometimes we get stuck finding each other, other times we find what we need to.'
And the sun melted into it's shimmering counter-part dancing on the fragile main.}

For window sills and lost romance..

{She sat on the windowsill, looking at the little droplets of drizzle slapping the window. She smiled wistfully as she waited for them to swell to their healthier forms, besmirching the window with definite tenacity. 
But that's not what was making it rain inside her head. It was His thought. It was the thought of curled toes and hot tea and fleeting kisses. 
And it was the thought of her one time best-friend. Of long drives and polaroid pictures.
She touched the glass. It's cold, foggy feeling made her shiver.
Her sat on the table, roaring away angrily on the phone. 
"No, I will not hold any longer! This is fucking ridiculous. I've been online for 20 fucking minutes. Can you count? TWENTY!"
Her verbal jostle continued as she watched She, sitting and smiling and reminiscing. 
Her slammed the phone down and looked at She.
"He wasn't the one."
She sat up and gave Her an empty look. The kind She did to the neighbours when they asked her to babysit. 
"Yea, you heard me. He wasn't the ONE. Neither will it kill you if he doesn't come back. And that 'friend' of yours really wasn't forever."
Her's speech was slowly making an appearance on She's face as it turned pink. 
"No ones dying, no ones dead. You have a fucking apartment with a french window where you can rest your ass and think about these people. Do you know what that means?"
No, She did not know what it meant. But She was aware of the retort gathering at the root of her mouth that she was anxious to spit out. "It means you could maybe mind your own business and let me be?"
Her just stared back. "The bills are my business. And you haven't paid them. So who am I getting the money from? The ONE or the FRIEND?"
She heard Her voice in her head. And She knew the rain had died down.}

For forgotten friends and music boxes..

{She dusted the old music box her then best friend had given her, and for the life of all things holy she couldn't remember the name of the person she willingly shared her childhood with.
"Most definitely started with N.. or not.", she twisted her face and the music box to look for inscriptions or whatever the heart of a 7 year would have left on it to remember them by. 
"Ahaa!", she had found it. A little glimmer of hope. Hope, apparently, came in the form of "H & Nutty forvrr". A dainty smile, dipped in nostalgia, tickled the edge of her lips as she slowly repeated, "Nutty.. That was a ridiculous name." Indeed, the name was ridiculous. Given to her because she was found nibbling on almonds, on occasions more than one. 
"H? Fuck, I don't remember at all." The realization came crashing down on her like a house of cards. Just enough to crush her spirit, but do no fatal harm. 
"I don't remember you H, but I think I'm gonna call you Home."
She had read it on someone's cubicle above the picture of their bitter half, in her drab, grey office - “For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.”}

For love and stationary..

{"She: <sniffing> When I'm sad I buy stationary.
Her: What sense does that make?
She: <looks down> I don't know...
Her: Ummm.. I mean, why stationary?
She: Because it's stationary. They probably call it that cause it won't change on you. And it's nice to you. It's almost like chocolate, only you can't eat it. But it makes things nice and organized and colorful, just the way I like it.
Her: Oh my god. You're in love with paperclips and scissors. No wonder real relationships never make the cut. get it? CUT??
She: Real clever. Thank god you didn't say 'pun intended'."}

For the unaccounted sighs..

{"No more of that damned sting. No more of this love business!", she said to no one in particular. One could also make a rather razor-sharp point that no one could respond to her, owing to the simple fact that her vicinity happened to be inhabited by but a host of torn photographs, none of which were enchanted. 
As a breeze cajoled the lopsided window and carefully tip-toed it's way in, her hair received the treatment most actresses do facing the larger than life electric fan. Or so it played in her head. And out of the gorgeously lop-sided window stood a gorgeous man with a lop-sided smile. Though he looked completely smitten and secure in his relationship with the chocolate tart, nestling beautifully in his hand, she had done the inevitable.. again. She had sighed. 
Thus, the damned sting was well on it's way to making a fabulous return.}