Fall is coming: I can feel the crisp, cooler touch to the usual warm air of the summer. Dew lolls about on the grass, little droplets of rain, like millions of fortune-teller’s crystals. The sun beams down, shielded by a thin mask of clouds, flinging a greyish light upon the world. In the midst of it all, Jacob rides his bike, slightly wobbling, with the grey gravel crunching and crackling underneath his wheels. A slight breeze blows through the air. His toes drag along the gravel, retarding his progress, and he tips dangerously to the side. I watch him turn, shakily, and slowly make his way down the path. The orange leaves are falling through the air, blown by a gentle draft. I look and Jacob is gone now: he’s put his bike away. I feel a tiny prick of coldness on my cheek, rain. I turn and walk into the house.