The last leaf on the tree finally caved to the fierce autumn wind. Graham watched as it tumbled through the cold air onto the soggy lawn. Autumn, along with its miseable weather, had started weeks ago and the last of the late-summer green was pretty much gone. His right hand was freezing. Having forgotten his gloves, the lovely black leather ones with the torn label, in the apartment, he had been switching his bag-holding-hand every few minutes to try and alleviate some of the painful cold. He shifted the grocery bag to this left hand and stuck his other hand in his lovely warm pocket. Wait what? He stopped and rummaged in the pocket, retrieving the object. A black leather glove with a torn label. Looking up, there was noone else on the street. Shrugging, he chalked it up to a lapse in memory. The remaining distance to home was far more pleasant with a gloved hand to hold the bag.
The key clicked in the lock and he was finally back into his apartment. Even the bloody hallway was cold, whereas his apartment, with its single bedroom and small bathroom, was nice and toasty. A cup of tea would not go amiss, so he went to fetch the electric kettle to fill it. Achoo! Sniffles. The bloody wind had given him the sniffles.