Mists of a Gray Day

It's gray outside. The sky is gray. The trees have an odd gray overlay to their bright leaves. The very air you breathe into your lungs is gray, feels gray, tastes gray. It is one of those damp gray days where no rain has fallen, but the moisture in the air is heavy, pregnant with more than just the possibility of wet. It is one of those gray damp days where you automatically pull the sweater or coat tighter around you when stepping outside, not because it is all that cold, but the gray chill just might enter you some way and make its home there - so you pull your coat, or sweater tighter around you in hopes to protect yourself from it. Still, like a moth to a cold gray flame, you still go outside. You still look up at the sky. You still shiver in the chilled, damp air.