April shivers as the autumn breeze blew on her arm, making her regret not bringing a sweater. The sun beats down providing her warmth until the breeze blows again chilling her. For a moment, she thinks about going home, but decides against it and continues her walk to the lake. Her camera around her neck ready to take pictures of the clouds as wispy and fully as cotton candy and the trees filled with a mixture of orange, red, and yellow leaves. The breeze blows again and trees dance in sync at its command. The fallen leaves rise and fly, twirling in circles in a chaotic manner as if they’re fighting for the center stage. But once the wind stops, the actors lose their will to continue and gracefully fall to the ground. She takes in everything around her and lets it back out.
April walks to the end of the newly built pier on the lake, that allowed her to be closer to the one place nothing else mattered, and sat down to watch the sun set over the water. The sunset lit up the clouds, as its colors reflected off the surface of the lake, and blended the picture in front of her together. Every second a new picture was formed as it replaced the old. She picks up a rock and throws it in, creating ripples in the once perfect mirror. Then as if broken from a trance, she jumps up and starts to run home, knowing her mom would disapprove of her staying out any later despite her age. When she reaches her street she realizes her camera has not been used. Once again, she was too caught up admiring the picture in front of her eyes to take any of her own. She sighs in acceptance and heads into her house.
