Intense. Left me pensive.


“What are you writing?”

The young man clapped the notebook closed, looked up to find her smiling down at him, felt his stomach do somersaults. “Nothing, really.”

“It must be a bit more than that,” she said, twisting the cap off a bottle of water. “Or you would not be blushing.”

The young man’s face grew warmer. “Only a small story. To pass the time.”

She took a sip, twisted the cap back onto her bottle, and said, “About what?”

He said, “Something that will never happen to me.”

“I see,” she said, resting one knee on the bench, her legs forming a number four. “May I pry?” she said.

“You may,” he said.

She joined him on the bench, one foot tucked under her. “Something such as what?”

“I’m embarrassed to say.”

A little girl, age ten or twelve, ran by holding aloft a stick from which a long streamer…

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