Fall is easily Mina’s favorite season. She loves the cool, dry air, enforcing on her the coziness of warm sweaters and hot drinks. She adores Halloween, the over the top costume parties and themed foods. Every September she dies her hair strawberry blonde, maybe even closer to orange. But most of all, she thinks, she loves the look of pure joy on Momo’s face when the leaves change color.

There’s something special about Momo in autumn. While she is dazzling in winter, lovely in spring and stunning in summer, Momo is never as cute as right now, Mina knows. She’s wearing at least three layers of clothing, complete with a three times her size green parka and a red scarf that brushes by the ground when she walks. Her newly honey-blonde bangs fall into her eyes, big and brown and glittering with wonder. Leaves in yellow, red, and orange rain about her, lingering on her hair and clothes before eventually flowing down to coat the ground until it’s no longer visible by the grey of itself. The scene is more reminiscent of cherry blossoms in early spring than October, but Mina finds that she doesn’t really care.

It’s not really that late, no more than half six in the afternoon, but the sun is setting, and the beautiful golden sunlight, typical to this time of year, shines on Momo’s face so beautifully, bringing out every warm tone in her skin, and making the brown of her eyes look sweeter and deeper than they ever have before.

A single shiver runs down Momo’s body, from her head to the funnily unfashionable boots she has on. Mina looks forward to when they get home; when she will warm her up. She will cover her up in thick, woolen blankets, until only the very tip of her golden head can be seen. Then she will climb under the covers as well, and they will lie so close as Mina feeds her spoonful’s of hot ginger tea.

Mina doesn’t think before she reaches out her arm to take Momo’s hand in her own. Momo looks at her with big, doll eyes, and Mina isn’t sure if she’s blushing of it is the cold biting on her cheeks painting them red. Mina loves Momo’s cheeks; they’re pink, plump and soft to the touch. Perfect to run her thumb over.

So she does. Momo doesn’t say anything, simply stands there, her cheeks growing even redder.

Mina loves fall, but like most things else, her love for it pales in comparison to what she feels when she looks at Momo. Because most things do.