She

The girl walked out her front door, clad only in lavendar boy shorts and her old highschool's spirit shirt. Forced earlier in the day into straight submission, her hair had the wavy appearance of bed head.
The chill of the early November morning greeted her toasty legs with pleasant satisfaction. A lightening blue gloom blanketed the horizon, tears drizzling still from the night's sadness.
Her toes were the first to react, stiffening then curling in attempt to escape the cold. Her flip flops provided no such escape.
She carefully chose her steps down the walkway to avoid the puddles.She reached her car and scrambled inside to its damp warmth. Here, winter was again temporairily thwarted.
She retrieved her book, "Africa's Cry", the newest thriller by Gabriele Levine. Her exit came marked with a hint of reluctance to re-enter the frost bitten world.
She stood on the threshold of winter and summerand took a last look beind at the scene.
The trees shoulders hung in surrender; their leaves scattered to form a carpet of sorts.
Red and white Air Jordans were just visible from the shallow ditch. Weeds that nearly obscured her vision reminded her that it was time to break out the lawn mower.
No birds chirped; no gathering of flocks in the yard today. It was a perfect day to lay inside the house and indulge herself in her new book.