When Autumn Calls

It was the pink that caught my eye. From the balcony of my third-floor apartment, I watched as the girl faught to keep her hat on her head. The wind won, sending the shock of color up...up...up... and placed it directly at my feet. I picked it up and was about to toss it back down to her, when I noticed how beautiful she was. She literally took my breath away, leaving me standing there like a fool, still clutching her little pink hat.

"Sir, can you please bring me my hat?" She asked, loudly.

"Sir? My God! How old do I look?" I joked. "I'll bring it right down."

I ran into the bathroom and attempted to make myself presentable. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. Walking down the stairs, I wondered if I should invite her up for a cup of tea. I decided that instead of coming across as friendly, it would most likely be taken as desperate.

She greeted me at the front of the building with a warm smile and said, "Thank you so much! I thought I'd be stuck with hat-hair the rest of the day."

I handed the hat back to her and replied, "No problem at all." I couldn't take my eyes off of her perfect little mouth.

"Please join me for a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, I don't want to inconvenience you or anything."

"You'd be doing me a favor, I hate sitting alone."

That's how it all began. I'm writing this now, nearly twenty years later, with my beloved wife asleep next to me in her pink-satin nightgown. I laugh now, remembering how I once thought that the wind was the victorious one.