Autumn Mornings Taste Better on Her Lips

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Autumn Mornings Taste Better on Her Lips

Golden leaves are falling like they’re auditioning to be confetti at her feet, and she’s strolling through the crisp air like the whole season was invented just to frame her. That flimsy little white sundress clings in all the right places, lace trim teasing across her chest while the oversized rust-colored cardigan slips off one shoulder, begging the breeze to finish the job. Steam curls from the coffee cup in her hand, rising past those soft amber eyes and the kind of smile that makes you forget pumpkin spice even exists. Her auburn hair catches the sunlight and throws it back warmer, wild strands dancing like they know every secret you’re dying to tell.

One delicate hand lifts in a lazy wave, the other cradling that cup like she’s savoring the heat in more places than just her fingers. The dress is short enough to promise autumn isn’t the only thing getting goosebumps today, and every step sends the hem fluttering against thighs that look illegally soft. She’s the reason scarves were invented, the reason coffee tastes better outside, the reason you suddenly believe in love at first sip. Fall never looked this dangerously cozy.

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