winter is coming.

that's what the smell in the playroom means, the smell that will soon be stuck on the pillows.

winter is coming.

it's time for long pants and warm boots and scarves. it's filling the house, and the little girl can feel it. soon there will be a christmas tree and snow. she slips on fuzzy socks and pretends to ice skate across the slick wood floors.

winter is coming.

the girl is convinced that she can see yellow leaves through the windows. the sky is clear and so, so blue. she slips her favorite striped mittens into her little backpack so that she will have them when it's really cold out. she pours herself a mug of the warm coffee out on the counter. cold weather means warm drinks, and her parents don't stock hot chocolate until it's "really cold." the heating is on, and the little girl knows that this means that it's already really cold. at least, it's about to be. she takes a sip. she spits it out. it's bitter. she leaves it on the counter and flounces out the front door.

winter is coming.

the honeysuckle by the bus stop is long gone. the girl sees that some little boys are wearing shorts. she knows that they will be cold. it is cold outside. summer has played its last song and now it is falling asleep.

winter is coming.

she gets on the yellow school bus. it's only a little yellower than the yellow leaves. she can smell the winter in here, too. she slides into her seat and watches the yellow trees flash by through the window.

winter is coming.