That time of year

 The days started getting shorter. The sun was bright, but it wasn’t warm anymore. It was all used up and would have to be replaced with a new bulb. The maple leaves were coming down like girls jumping out of hotel windows with their dresses on fire. All the ice cream stores had put curtains in their windows, as if there were deaths in the family. 

I looked in the closet for a warmer coat. I finally came out with a woollen overcoat. I tried it on. Moths flew everwhere around me, like I was in a little snowstorm. It was me. I let winter out of the box. 

— from Heather O’Neill’s The Girl that was Saturday Night 

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