I keep looking for signs of fall beyond the pumpkin-flavored drinks my roommates seem so fond of. Every fallen leaf seems an indication of the colorful display to come. Every wilting flower of symbol of dying summer, even when the weather of humid days and languid nights seems to indicate no end to that season. I usually love summer and mourn its annual demise, but this year in Pennsylvania quite distant from the beaches I haunted in a more southern state, I am prepared for the season to come. I look forward to the sound of my footsteps on city streets being muffled by the crunch of leaves underneath. I am ready to endure the short days and longer nights in exchange for costumed house parties, frosty windows, and the cornucopia of baked goods fall always seems to produce. I am dressing as if fall was here already with pleated skirts, smart flats, and cardigans fit for any proper student.