Details of nine thirtieth

I like:

Dogs. The way they waddle and rock back and forth/lefright rightleft when they pad through the crunchy autumn leaves. Or when they rush towards a flock of feeding pigeons, tongue lolling and laughing as the plump gray birds scatter in fright. Or when they are grinning and looking up at the men holding their leash, trotting along.

The stretched smile of a teen-ish guy as he pulls his kid brother along on a skateboard, about to break into a raucous laugh, his hand outstretched to catch the wobbling rangy kid in a crushed pea coat. And how the sun peeks above the red square roofs and cascades through the yellowed afternoon leaves, while faint shadows chase the laughing pair.

The soft foam of a latte, peering over the rounded precipice of the china cup.