Exercise: A fragment

This isn't a real story, more like the beginning of one. Just wanted to see how far I could go. Apparently, it's still not far enough. But it's a fair start, I think.

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She was bored, I thought. The wind was bored.

It wove and spun around me, tossing leaves to and fro with her million unseen hands, frustrated over the uncertainty of where to blow and why. I wondered about her, the wind. About how fortunate she was because of her freedom, and how unfortunate she was because she seemed to have too much of it and didn’t know what to do.

Autumn had a way of making me remember. Unlike the lively bursts of greens that flooded my eyes and lifted my spirits during the summer, there were the bulbous plumes of reds and yellows and golds, reminding me of the end of things. They brought back thoughts of what had not been done, what had been left hanging, as well as every promise that had gone unfulfilled. The wind sent these warm plumes dancing, devoid of a proper beat or rhyme, which seemed to provide her some amusement.

I had almost forgotten that he was sitting beside me, and that he had his hand firmly in mine. He was calmly looking at me as I watched the trees, though I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Not that it mattered to me. We were used to these moments of silence, the comfortable yet strange kind, where I didn’t have to know what was on his mind any more than he needed to pry into mine. I suppose that’s what the past three years had taught us.

“We can always stay this way,“ he began. “I’m not really going anywhere.”

I smiled, and he smiled back.