Like dirty feet on clean sheets, the dark clouds rolled in, occluding the sun, turning the sunny day gray and dismal.
“There goes Autumn,” said Maggie, looking up. “And the wind’s picking up too.” Her companion nodded.
“Like God’s leaf blower,” he commented as a swirl of bright leaves engulfed him.
Over before it started. Like a story without an ending, a movie that runs out of plot before it runs out of film or a dinner without dessert. Like … Autumn … without the golden leaves.
Or spring without flowers.