Eleanor paused, heavy clouds of steam rolling off her tongue. Slowly she wiped the sticky moisture off of her forehead, smoothing her ponytail into near perfection. As she waited for her lungs and heart to return to their synonymous rhythm, she lowered herself to the lush grass, brushing away the orange and red leaves. Her eyes wandered to a young birch, its leaves a vivid canary yellow, then another- its leaves a tender green. Autumn was her favorite season. A pair of maroon curtains shifted in the house across the street from her, a small boy appearing behind them. Slowly he pressed his face to the glass, leaving his mouth open in a perfect oval, painting the window with fog. Then carefully he retreated, as if to observe his masterpiece. Then-with ambiguous accuracy- he made two dots in the top of his oval and a side-ways crescent on the bottom. He then smiled, proud of his window-fog-artistry, but after a few moments of pride, his face contorted into frustration. A mother appeared behind him, face creased with the years of stress and child care. She locked eyes with Eleanor, and almost immediately pulled the boy away, safely behind the purple cloak of cloth.
Eleanor couldn't help but to ponder on his oval shaped steam monster.
It smiled at her, eyes far apart, smile crooked.

Footsteps broke her tranquil rest, alarming her that the group had caught up. Without noticing, Kimberly had approached her, smacking her lightly with the handle of her sign.
“Come on Eleanor, or you'll fall behind.” she whined lightly, helping her partner up.
“Alright, alright.” Eleanor replied, weaving her olive fingers through Kimberly's pale ones. For a mere minute Eleanor gazed at the woman beside her, and all her dazzling beauty, before turning away.

“ALL LOVE, IS LOVE. NO MATTER WHAT GENDER.” Eleanor declared proudly into the plastic megaphone. “LOVE CAN NOT BE LABELED.”