A dry early November day it was, the sky a shade of gusty gray and gloriously breezy as dark brown leaves swirled and landed in the silver puddles at your feet, slow in their upcoming hibernation. Late fall had gradually announced itself in the languid transition from the spicy, russet atmosphere to the earliest sluggishness of winter’s beginning. It was too early to be nippy or drafty, the cool breeze whirling by unhurriedly like a lazy mother duck walking her spawn across the river.

You’ve made your way through the parking lot, Ugg boots and shirts tucked into jeans and cars empty, yet to await the return of their drivers. A slow paced Sunday, school tomorrow, and Nico striding beside you leisurely. His black locks divided by the fluff of the ear muffs, the creme color of beige. He did not tend to wear them often, however your insistence was not something he would object to. A pair of similar — yours a petal rose pink shade — sat on your own crown of the head.

The mall with drifting folk and crystals in bowls, the shops slowly clearing out Halloween goods as it was over, instead taking to replace them for the upcoming Christmas. The usual candle shop you’d taken a liking to was your first stop, after perhaps you’d have some pumpkin spiced latte or hot toddy with tea instead of whiskey and head home, or maybe wander around the bookstore and buy some vinyls.

Nico placed a black crystal on the altar, deftly rearranging the statuettes as you cleared out dried wax out of your candlesticks, wiping the previous scent out. Your altars differed vastly — his a mix of pebble shade and charcoals and yours a tender lemonade pink with a tinge of almond white and porcelain — and yet contrasted nicely. Nico switched the light off, the comfort of the sacred silence before the scent of the candles wafted to him. He wrinkled his nose slightly, raised one questioning eyebrow.

“ Strawberry and white chocolate? That’s saccharine. “ His own were a lingering smell of pomegranate and smoke, the subtlest hint of dark honey.