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.}