Windy August Morning

Tugging at her pantyhose, she stumped down the Edwardian terrace lined street. Surreptitious her motions; a fold here, a knee there. Close now to the green with all the bus stops, she wondered if today's skirt look was a pathetic attempt to psychologically stall the autumn. Just then, a gust of wind took her problems out of the realms of the existential. The dumpster driver's companion lad, he grinned. Resigned, and a little shameless, she clutched her flying skirts and grinned back.