I’m in a coffee shop in Fluffton’s exclusive and terrifying Cthulu Heights neighborhood. Looking out on the street, I see a lot of coats slung over a lot of shoulders, the product of the second consecutive very nice day (nighttime severe weather advisory notwithstanding) catching everyone by surprise.
It may not be coat weather yet, but the signs are here: leaves on the ground, apple cider for sale and every empty third empty storefront to turn into a costume store. Soon thereafter, it will become a Christmas presents and decorations store, then a tax preparation service. Once more shall the cycle of life repeat.
There’s no getting around it, any day now will be the last good day of the year.
Cousteau, “The Last Good Day of the Year”