Changing of the Seasons
The air is getting chilly now, threatening to bite at my cheeks and turn them the color of strawberries. The clouds come together like they're plotting my demise; they smother my poor sun, and she's forced to hide her warmth. Soon we'll start to plow the snow, turning it to solid gray, grucky grit. My friends will be colder than they are now, spitting their venom at my comfort. For now I'll have to keep hiding in bathrooms and locker rooms,,, spending time with the girl who radiates heat in this icy world.