Marshmallow Snowmans

The wind swept up crunchy leaves like cold crisp corpses dancing with butterfly wings. I was standing on the gravel path, bundled up with only my eyes exposed and snot running down to my scarf. She was sitting on the bench wearing only a t-shirt and purple-colored pants. The squirrels were fat balls of fur with tall tails. The trees were skeletal and stunningly bare. They were attractive. The trees were. I was like a bloated, polyester bag of garbage. She was shivering. I didn't say anything and my my mouth was covered by the scarf and the jacket so my voice would've been muffled anyway. I was like two floating eyes. She was very attractive. Built like a block with a strong nose. She had a bright face and hard right angles. Her cheeks were turning red from the wind. She wasn't looking at me. She was turned away from me and looking at I-don't-know-what. I stood there, watching her. She had pointy elbows and pointy wrists and clavicles that weren't "jutting" but still pronounced. She was very beautiful. I didn't say anything to her.