Love of mine

Dear Life,

It is October, the leaves are turning gold in some part of the world, the air carries the scent of cinnamon and in someone, somewhere is falling in love in a small bookstore café.

I think it is time you let me have a story like that.

The kind of autumn that I stumble across someone on a sidewalk littered with fallen leaves, coffee spills in their hands.

We smile as if we have known each other for years. The universe conspires with ridiculous little gestures.

Late-night drives with the windows cracked open and shared playlists, oversized sweaters and someone that remembers how I take my coffee. Being caught in the rain and finding shelter under the nearest awning, breathless and laughing, wondering if this is the beginning of something.

I want a love that feels like a handwritten letter tucked in a book in a library. The kind of person who takes a longer route home because they are not ready to stop talking to me. Sunday mornings are slow, the pancakes are slightly burnt, and there is nowhere else either of us would rather be.

I want to be in a montage.

Give me golden-hour photographs and spontaneous train rides. Give me a little apartment with warm lights glowing through the windows, fresh flowers on the table, and a person coming home to me. Give me friends that show up unannounced with takeaway and terrible gossip. Give me a city that I feel like it belongs to me, streets I haven't wandered yet and little cafes that the barista will eventually know my name.

And I know autumn doesn't last forever, the leaves fall, the evenings grow colder and eventually everyone puts away their sweaters.

But perhaps that's the point.

Maybe beautiful things don't need to last forever to be worth having. Perhaps a season can change your entire life, and perhaps the next chapter doesn't need to look anything like it. So, Life, here's what I'm asking.

Let this be the autumn something changes.

Yours, in anticipation of a plot twist,

The girl, who's ready for her happy ending.