One Of Those Nights With The Window Rolled Down

There it is again. That late summer chill to the brisk night air. The change of pace from the sweltering season of sticky nights laying out in open fields, counting shooting stars. The brief chill that makes me roll up my window, teeth almost chattering. By now, you would think I could come to expect the breeze, but I never do. I'm not so used to this after all.