The wind smelled of fresh mildew and cinnamon spice.

Their feet stepped on leaves, crunching the orange bursts of color against the worn white cement.

The trees were croaking and swinging in the wind, warning us of the many of them which would fall in the oncoming snow.

Nico wore a scarf, black beanie and jacket as he walked with Will, who couldn't take his eyes off the greyed sky.

"You're from Texas. How do you like autumn so much?" Nico asked, curious and smiling.

Will smirked, "Because it's hard to take for granted."