An overpowering aroma of pumpkin spice assaulted Teddie as she opened her front door.

“Every year. Why is it always pumpkin bloody spice? Can it never be cider with cinnamon or something? Every year…” She set her keys on the hook by the door as her phone chimed. A groan left her as she opened the photo in the text message. “And so it begins.”

Teddie’s favorite mug took center stage in the backyard grass, resting by Jillian’s Ugg-boot clad feet, crossed at the ankles, and surrounded by a semi-circle of strategically placed red and yellow leaves. 

She rolled her eyes as she read the message:

Happy October 1st, Teddie Bear! 

#SoBlessed #PumpkinSpice #October #Fall #AutumnLover #RainbowLeaves #MyFavoriteTimeOfTheYear

“I really used to like fall before I met you, Jillian. The chill in the air, the crunch of leaves under my shoes. I really did like it,” Teddie mumbled, taking in her surroundings. 

Jillian had taken it upon herself to decorate the small house in her typical over-enthusiastic way. Jack-O-Lanterns surrounded the feet of a cheerful-looking scarecrow who had taken up residence by the living room fireplace. Garlands of faux light brown leaves wrapped around the spindles of the staircase, bringing all the glory of the outdoors in. 

“Where the hell does she get all this stuff? It’s not like she goes out,” Teddie mused, wandering farther into her home. A centerpiece of gourds and thick orange candles—pumpkin spice scented, of course— sat in the center of the kitchen table. “I swear this is the year I’m going to do it. I swear…”

Jillian popped up in front of her, knit scarf wrapped around her neck, toboggan covering her hair, Uggs pulled on over black leggings. “What are you going to do?” she said, her voice raising like a Valley Girl at the end of her question.

“I’d say kill you, but…”

“I’m already dead?” Jillian shrugged, a huge grin bringing the corners of her mouth up. “That gas leak beat you to it by three years.”

Teddie’s mouth quirked. “Exorcism might be a promising venture.”

“Ahhh, Teddie Bear, we go through this every year! You know I love autumn and you never end up calling Father Segrue.”