A warm breeze pulled at a flurry of leaves that responded by floating down like children pouring out of the doors for recess. A scattering, having fallen some days before, had already gained their coppery, crunchy coat. Geese, not yet in a hurry, flew across the mild blue of sky. Other birds bunched and spread and bunched again in an artistic, undulating swirl.

Finding the balmy weather warmer than she’d anticipated, Mina unbuttoned her barn coat. It was a present received just in the last week from her neighbor for no good reason, though she was glad such givers existed. The neighbor thrifted at least once a week, and the coat was a find she said she couldn’t pass up. But it was too small for her, so the note attached to it said. Mina, I hope this fits. I found it a bit small, but such a good find!

Mina was on her bi-weekly morning walk to nowhere in particular, with little crossing her mind other than a fleeting admiration of her surroundings. It was, she supposed, a gift of the Almighty to folks like her – ones with not much to offer other than an unwelcome opinion.

She rounded a corner and sat on a bench that had been placed partly out of love and partly out of obligation by the city council two years ago. In grateful memory of Virgil Hanson for outstanding volunteerism.

She’d known him for thrity years. Nice guy. Never had much to say. But she was glad for a place to sit before moving on. A paperclip by her shoe caught her eye as she pushed off the wooden seat to leave. She picked it up, sat back down, and looked at it. It was unusual – a grasshopper was formed at the top – and the whole of the clip was slightly dirty. She couldn’t have said why she slipped it in her pocket.

A bell tinkled as she peeked into the bakery on her way home. It – the bakery – had only been around since May. La boulangerie-pâtisserie was written in a flourish on a sign above the door. Before today, she hadn’t taken the time to check it out, but the mouthwatering aroma that hit her the minute she stepped over the threshold, told her it was her loss. She walked out ten minutes later with croissants and a lovely loaf of bread baked fresh that morning.

The following day’s sun had just found its place over the horizon, as she sat on her porch and drank her first cup of tea. The weather had not yet turned, and warmth in the Fall was hard for her to resist. She bit into her almond croissant. Mmm. Even the day after, it was melt-in-your-mouth delicious.

Her mind mulled over the news; national and global, civic and familial, good and unfortunate. She waved at someone walking by, and drank her tea to the bottom of the cup. Lifting a stack of papers from the small table next to her, she began sorting through them, dropped one, then another as she bent to pick up the first one. Mina remembered the old paperclip and reached into her coat pocket, pulling it out. Ah. There. An old, dirty paperclip did just as well as one fresh out of the box. What needed holding together held. Mission accomplished!

And then she went to vote.

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