The first sign of fall

It had started early this year. Earlier than most. The cracking. The slight crevasse of skin; tearing at the middle knuckle on the back of the hand. The red line showing the skin layers underneath. The epidermis on the left and right revolting at the slightest indication of cold. It had only just become jacket weather. The shorts still being washed and dried and ironed and neatly folded in the bottom drawers to be worn next years. The leaves just beginning to blush red and yellow and fire orange. The air conditioner remotes gathered and put away. The boiler not yet fired up; the radiators not yet bled. But there is was that familiar discomfort. The separation of skin. The first sign of fall.