The temperature outside was begging for brown leaves to be littering the streets and trees to be baring their skin. But for now, the portrait would remain an illusion of summer. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his brown bomber jacket and walked leisurely along the sidewalk to his near by destination.
Thomas could see his breath forming in wisps of smoke before his breath and recalled younger days, when he and friends past would form a narrow "V" with their pointer finger and middle finger, pressing the illusory cigarette to their lips, then blowing out the nicotine air. In days not so far gone, the angelic, thin air morphed into thick, smoke screens, and the space between his finger tips was replaced by Reds. Now, he had gotten over the habit and didn't even pretend to look cool.
He was tugged from this day dream by the ringing of a cow bell. He had reached the school just in time. He looked at his watch as he stood outside the gates and realized it took him fifteen minutes longer than usual to get there. He looked back and wondered if he took a different route. He wondered how he got there at all. It's times like these I wonder if a child in my custody is the best idea.
"Dad!" he heard his daughter cry out as she ran towards him, looking like a pink marshmellow as she ran towards him in her puffy jacket.
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