Autumn has come to town.
The air feels a little thinner, the sunlight a little softer. Leaves that once held tight to their branches now begin their quiet descent, fluttering like forgotten thoughts. I sit by the window with a cup of coffee, watching the season unfold, realizing that endings can be gentle too.
Change always seems to arrive with the fall. It doesn’t ask permission — it just walks in, wearing the scent of rain and nostalgia. The streets look familiar, yet I know I’m no longer standing in the same place I once was. Somewhere between yesterday’s comfort and tomorrow’s uncertainty, I find myself preparing to leave for my next chapter.
Coffee has always been my companion in moments like this. It doesn’t fix anything, but it listens — in its own quiet way. As the steam rises, so do my thoughts. I think of the people I’ve met, the laughter shared, and the silences that taught me more than words ever could. I think of all that must be left behind so that something new can begin.
Maybe life is just a series of chapters — some long, some painfully short — and autumn is the bookmark between them. It reminds me that letting go is not the same as losing. It’s simply turning the page, trusting that the story will continue in its own rhythm.
So I finish my coffee, take one last look at the golden trees outside, and whisper quietly to myself: it’s time.
Time to move forward, time to breathe in the crisp air of beginnings, and time to see where the next page leads.
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