But inbetween the evenings it's been the longest summer; longer than I thought a summer would ever be after my age came to be written out in two digits. Between the strawberries, the lazy park afternoons, the morning coffees, the videogame nights, the polkadot skirts, the mosquito bites, the bruised patches of skin; the beer and the tobacco-
But I'm not sad to see it go. August and I shake hands, we part on amicable terms. There has to be autumn regardless of the strawberries; it's okay, August, I'm ready now.