In a blinding flash, it's the sultry, rainy start of yellowing September again. You almost switch to running, trying to make it to the appointed time of your meeting, scattering the leaves that were glistening from the downpour with your feet.

Red like sunsets, like the hot, spicy cider you both used to warm yourselves with on nights this time of year, like the pack of thin, bitter cigarettes you both smoked in half by the blazing fireplace, talking about how the past had warped both of you. Scarlet like the sweaters that smelled of nutmeg and strong coffee that Leon hated so much. Yellow, like the bruises on your knees from a fall when you ran frantically into each other's arms just like little kids.

Autumn had always been a time just for the two of you—your little annual business trips to this city, that already seemed like home because of him, brought something warm to his heart. Only to choke on your own hurt later when the time to part comes again.

But now, stumbling over your own thoughts, you only quicken your pace when you see Leon standing there by the old clock in Central Park, obviously waiting for you.

“Hey, you.” He whispered breathless, even though you were the one who'd been running all along. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his body despite your rain-soaked clothes.