She sat on the park bench with her hands resting on her lap. It was the middle of spring, yet it was cold. It was not even a quarter to three, yet the sun was starting to set. “I’m not ashamed to say I miss you,” I began. I looked at the figure beside me, “I missed laughing with you and seeing your face. We had to part ways, but it was for the best.” She nodded. “You’re brave,” she said. “I couldn't find the strength to tell you how I felt; I was afraid.” It was true. I never saw her as one, though—a leaf in the wind. “I saw you over by the corner. You looked happy, I’m glad. But it feels strange—seeing your smile without my intervention.” The girl looked around for a minute, then rested her attention on a little boy, a girl, too. They were pushing each other on the swingset. “I’m sorry- I.. I missed you, too. But I must be going.” She stood up and started toward the coffee shop. As she made it to the curb, she looked back and smiled. I looked down and observed my hands. They were cold. Oh well. It is time to go home. The sun touched my face again. [credits inside project]
