back to school

There was just a sound that went with the end of summer. It was the usual cacophony of crickets, of course, but there was just another element that she couldn't put her finger on, and that was what officially made the change from summer to autumn, for her, anyway. Was it frogs? The distant hum of the highway? The leaves changing color? She lay in bed and whatever sound it was came in through her window and blended with the gentle thrum of the fan. It swayed back and forth across the span of her bed, rustling the sheets against her bare legs.

These days, the nights when she didn't wake up with her sheets tangled around her waist and the thin cotton comforter pulled up to her chin were becoming fewer and fewer. The air was more than crisp when the sun went down, and every day the sun was going down minutes before it had yesterday. Soon she would have to put her fan in the back of her closet and the vacant space would be replaced with soft, oversized sweaters and fleece blankets and plans to go apple picking. That didn't sound so bad.

It was still summer if she had bare legs. But now there was that sound drifting through the curtains, that inexplicable, indescribable, end of summer sound.