Writing about setting from


        "Go for a walk and get the stink off!" his mom demanded as he finished clearing the table after dinner. Too much clunking and slamming and sighing.

        Mike shuffled down the sidewalk.

Golden hour.

The sun drifted through the leaves making them appear more translucent. He kept his head down, watching his All-Stars step heavily. This was the perfect time of year. The air had a crispness to it--like biting into a just-picked apple. Leaves were beginning to lose their bright green of summer. Yellows were beginning to edge in, and he knew that soon his street would be a canvas of reds and oranges. Beautiful and idyllic--a painter's dream.

So why was he so crabby? That's what his mom had asked him.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Did something happen in school? Are you and Chaz fighting? Is it a girl?"

"I just feel... I don't know." Why do girls always seem to know exactly what they're feeling and why? he wondered. What's wrong with me?

Now on the sidewalk heading towards the coffee shop, he trekked through his brain trying to put his finger on what exactly was wrong. He'd had arguments with Chaz before. He'd had disagreements with classmates before--he'd always looked at things from a slightly different point of view.

But this seemed different.

He kicked a fallen maple leaf and watched the green-yellow foliage fly up into the air before floating back down.

"And these children that you spit on as they try to change their world," he sang, "are immune to your consultation. They're quite aware what they're going through--Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!"

"Yeah, Bowie, you had it right," he mumbled. "But I don't know if I can turn and face the strange."