Autumn

The streets of San Francisco are sticky cold these days. It is as if the chill slides through your sweater, into your skin, and settles down inside of your bones. The crisp air charges as you ride your bike through the city; it pushes against you. You feel the heavy dark film of night slide over you. It is always sudden. You see cars flash and pause but you can't see their drivers. The dark cold night envelopes you and you curl up and go to sleep.