Autumn was never my favorite type of season.

Living in the East Coast of America meant I was facing all four seasons—something that I was never introduced to in Australia. Maybe it was because I didn't like the sudden eerie atmosphere, or possibly the skies growing gray and gloomy. Maybe I just didn't like the bareness of the trees, or the flourishing vegetation abruptly gone to a wasteland. Maybe I just didn't like the feeling of death sauntering behind me as the days lingered shorter.

Because everything about Autumn had screamed a sort of "death." It felt like only a transitional period from summer to winter; a filler that had no importance. It was like a roaring candle flame on the beach at high noon. Pointless.

To contradict, I'm educated on seasons. I know why things happen in nature. Autumn is important because it's a transitioning period to embrace the winter. Everything and everybody is saying goodbye to that summer haze and a sorrowful hello to the winter chill—whether it would be animals, plants, or humans. It would be strange for one morning to be scolding hot outside, then the next to reach below freezing.

Of course, global warming throws that all away. Let's fuck up the whole entire planet, shall we?

Getting back to the point, nothing really stops me from hating the season of Autumn. No one can really dictate my decisions because that's just human nature. It gives us power to destroy or power to create.

Which brings me to now. My back is killing me as I'm arched over my current painting: the deathly Autumn scenery. It's painfully chilly and my teeth are clattering. I'm pretty sure my hands have gotten frostbite, despite the fact I'm wearing these stupid woolen gray gloves that smudge the paint every once and a while. Because I'm too stubborn to Google a reference, I'm here at the park painting the deathly scenery. Of course, that meant I had to finish the painting in one sitting since scenery can change overnight.

It's another one of my commissions, and since my half of rent is due soon, I can't afford to not make the painting. My client wanted Autumn scenery; so Autumn scenery they receive. My paintings are pretty expensive, usually 20 - 50 bucks a piece (depending on the size). People frequently request some sort of art from me, so I'm always busy just painting. I mean, it's good for a living, but free time is a non-existent concept for me. As long as I can afford to have a roof over my head and food on the table, I'm completely fine.

So, I finished up the final details and set the painting besides me on the park bench. I backed up, seeing if it was adequate enough to its actual counterpart. The brown tinted leaves on the ground looked a bit messy, but that's what made it displaced in the first place. There were a plethora of oak trees in the piece, which made it look a bit crowded. That gave me a sense of displeasure. The cloudy sky was a mixture of dark grays and blues—again setting the familiar tone of death. The grass was a mixture of emerald and light brown. I guess it was alright—not like I had the patience to repaint it to my liking anyway.

I packed my paints back into my book bag and swung it over my shoulder. Grabbing the painting by its wooden back, I made sure not to smudge it as I proceeded to lift it off the bench. I don't know how long I stayed put out here, but it definitely was over three hours. I wanted to finish two smaller commissions when I got home, so I made sure to hasten my pace out of the park. My apartment complex was only about two blocks away.

The streets weren't busy as usual with only a car or two zooming past me. I was the only one seeming to be outside today. Or maybe there were people at the park earlier and I was just too drawn into my painting to notice them. Whatever the case may be, it doesn't matter now. I'm on my way home to be alone anyway, with little to no human interaction. Good on my part.

Speaking of human interaction, I needed to make a stop at the library. I'm not a book nerd or anything, my roommate is an English major in his Junior year [of college]. For his next assignment, he's required to read a book that goes by the name of "Lord of the Flies." It's a 1954 novel that was written by some old dude: William Golding. Judging by the title, it's probably some freaky book with tons of symbolism shoved into it.

Instead of walking foreword onto the next block at the stoplight, I made a sharp right turn and headed towards the library. It's right nearby my apartment complex; I couldn't see why Ty didn't want to do it himself. I know college is hard, but he has more free time than me. You know what he does? Plays video games. I sighed as I pulled the library's glass door open with my left hand.

As I stepped inside, I was immediately blasted with a heat wave. I would have taken my hat off, as well as my gloves, but I don't plan to stay for too long. I'd just ask the librarian where the stupid book was and be on my way. Simple as that.

I shifted my eyes around for a moment looking for the front desk. I barely was able to see it, but it was towards the back of the building behind the astonishing array of bookshelves. I made my way through the labyrinth of shelves and stood in front of the desk.

There was a person leaning back in a swivel chair, face covered by a gray newspaper. They looked to be relaxed—a bit too relaxed. Their body posture was slouched and numbing; quite the counterpart to my constantly stressed and tensed body. I was jealous. Working in a place that was usually empty and being able to sleep off like this seemed like a dream. The person didn't look poor either as they were adorned in a black leather jacket. If only I could draw them.

I purposely cleared my throat in an attempt to grasp their attention. The person immediately leapt out the chair. The newspaper glided onto the desk. I gave a small chuckle, but then reverted back to my stoic demeanor. I'm sweating. It's hot enough as it is, and I don't want to be here right now.

The person got up from the floor. It was a boy who seemed to be around the same age as me, if not younger. His face was round and chubby, seeming to resemble baby fat. His brunet hair was very messy, but was complimentary to his eye color—a mesmerizing hickory. His skin was pallid mixed in with tints of yellow, sickly almost, and his lips were chapped and even a lighter shade.

"Apologies," he spoke swiftly. His voice was feathery and child-like. Maybe he's a teenager working here as a part time job. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for a book by the name of—" my sentence trailed off as I attempted to recall the name of the book, "—Lord of the Flies."

The boy nodded, surprised, "That novel? By William Golding?"

"Uh, yeah...?" the way I said it made it sound like another question.

He smiled softly, "Oh, that's one of my favorite novels! It's currently being rented out right now, however, by me."

My jaw almost dropped to the floor, but I remained calm, "Don't you have any spare copies of that novel?"

"No, there's only one."

"Do you know any place I could buy the book?"

"Probably online as an eBook."

I shook my head, releasing an exasperated sigh, "Do you know when you'll be done with the book?"

"Today's Tuesday, so I'm assuming by this upcoming Friday. I'll try to read it more quickly, so come in any days between those two periods."

I nodded, frowning, "Well, alright. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Oh and that painting looks quite wonderful by the way. I'm sure you hear that a lot, however."

I felt my face heat up. God, this heat is really getting to me. My whole body is suffering at the moment, specifically my armpits. I probably smell like a garbage truck right now, and the heat doesn't make it any better. I'm surprised that beads of sweat aren't trickling down my whole face at this point.

"Oh, thanks," I managed to get a grip and pull a smile for him. He smiled back and reached for his newspaper again.

I turned around and practically bolted for that exit. Pushing the door open, the frigid air brushed against my whole body. The relief I felt was lavishing. I headed back home.

It didn't take me that long to be kicking open the front door [after I've unlocked it with my key] and tossing my backpack onto the wooden floor. The loud thump it caused would have probably distressed the neighbors downstairs, but I could care less about their opinions. I set my painting down on the kitchen counter, then headed for the living room. There was Ty, as I anticipated, holding a controller while playing some sort of first person shooter. He paused his game and looked towards me.

"Did you get the book?" He questioned.

I shook my head, "The fucking librarian is renting out the book. Seriously, like what kind of librarian denies the service of its customers? Why don't you just get it yourself next time? I have a job to do while you're just lazing away on this sofa playing video games."

Ty rolled his eyes in response, huffing afterwards, "I'm a college student, okay? I have shit to do too. You're just, I don't know, taking leisurely measures."

"You try painting for a living; let's see how you feel," I snapped, crossing my arms.

"Brice," Ty paused for a moment, "I know you graduated art school like, what, almost two years ago? Just try to remember the suffering you went through during college."

"I actually had to do shit while you only have to read a book, do a book report, and call it a day!"

"We also write essays—"

"Essays my fucking ass."

Ty shook his head, "I'll pay the rent for the next six months if you get that book for me."

"Really?" I stood shocked. "Are you that lazy?"

"Yes, now shoo. I already know that's an offer you can't pass up."

He resumed his game and continued playing. I knew it would be pretty useless to continue to talking to him, so I headed back towards the kitchen to grab my painting, as well as my backpack and a snack. I couldn't help to contemplate about it, however. Paying rent for 6 months just to get a stupid book? That's over a four thousand dollars at best, and considering he's a crippling, penniless college student, it would be an impossible feat.

But oh well, a deal's a deal.

I decided to eat lightly today, so I simply just grabbed two oranges and an apple, then headed towards my room. I spammed the door behind me, then stripped all of my clothes. The amount of sweat that was stained onto my garments was disgusting, so I decided to grab my towel and take a shower.

Considering how tired I was, I figured I was going to take a long nap before starting my next commission. It was going to be a small drawing of a galaxy, a 6 x 5 to be exact. Pretty small, but pretty easy. Worth 20 bucks too!

I turned on the water in the shower and just let my thoughts trickle away like the water pouring down my body. How refreshing it felt.