Miniature Autumn Landscapes

The air deepens, the shadows writhe with depth and the light seems to fade through different layers of violet. Finally, tonight, I breathed in cold-fires, pulled my jacket around me because I was actually chlly.
Autumn is here, at last.
Today was hot though. A cup of tea with Em on the pier, watching the sun shift and become hidden behind a cloud. The sea below us was the deepest shade of green I could imagine. Two seagulls on the tarot caravan nervously look at each other, young bird-lovers in their first September, gull-desire and feathered coyness.
Comng back from Em's house, somebody asked the direction to the Hotel. I had only just passed by it - it was empty and hypnotic as usual. I pointed her to the building, felt almost inclined to ask her if there were any reports of anything unusual in that always empty downstairs room.
At work I doodle miniature autumn landscapes in my sketcbook. They shift between the scrawled notes on the calls I take; percentage rates, fixed rate cash ISA summaries, wrong passwords. Fragments of a tiny countryside where sole streetlamps lean in a wind of leaves, and a scrawled sky pregnant with sleep and smoke and dreams implies that night is king here.
I forgot to look at the Death House when I passed by and when I looked back, it seemed a shadow fell over it. Miles of corridors full with autumn, and I wonder if the house knows it is being watched.
The House of Bedsits is silent. The humming of the fridge is hushed as a cathedral. Dark for hours now, two months back, the sun may just have been setting.