Its past 5 pm, and a man enters the park, walking mechanically to a bench with tiny attention as if the path he was walking on was predefined for him. the man was coming every day to that bench, he must have developed a sense of ownership of that wooden old bench with a partially rusted metal handle.
He sits on one side taking only the space he needed, he sat as if even anyone passing from that bench would feel invited yet he put his bag so carelessly, a bit away from him where it couldn’t possibly touch him, he knew that no one in eternity is ever coming on that bench to join him.
he catches his breath without extra activities like loosing his tie and pulling his collar or any such activity that would express his tiresome job so extravagantly. he just sits there normally and makes himself now more comfortable putting his hand on the rusted handle, he lays down his head on whatever space the width of bench support provided. He stares at the fading sky without a blink for it had also become a habit for him to watch the sky irrespective of its state, it mattered little to him whether the sky was fading or rising, and not a single thing he had done since he arrived to the park was out of his regular routine or out of his order. Definitely, he never imagined himself making a routine of anything let alone something he would consciously do in order to gain some peace. He had nothing but a great imitation of the energy you would get from a person who is robbed of everything. But no one, no one in the world could know that just by looking at him, once acknowledging him as a person like normally people would do in the park, for the very little presence he was holding among children playing in front of him and people walking and talking around all the places they found themselves comfortable in, for them this simple man was the same “comfortable in his own place who mustn’t be disturbed by getting involved with him in any way, he came here to sit for a while, a hard day at work perhaps? let the man have some peace.”
well not that any of the parties present there, the man or the people and their children were complaining, it all felt so natural to everyone. Haha what do you even call natural now, everyone shaped their minds that this park was indeed in its equilibrium state where whatever it presented must be considered all natural. “A park is supposed to be a place to hang out with others known to you or come alone to get some peace right? Well, who decides that anyway?”.
On the other hand, man also held no desire he expects nothing from the sky or the people or the park it’s like another part of his job or maybe another job itself. For him, it’s like moonlighting but then he shuts himself down from his thoughts since if he continued he knows that going home and doing chores can also be considered a job he hates, hah existence… “haha guess anything I can possibly think of would lead me to this, yeah its Thursday tomorrow, right? It’s empty, gotta head to fucking groceries, I am tired I’ll get the dinner from Kirbies they got that beautiful fountain there too, feels lively while eating. yeah…”
An hour passes by as man decides to leave whatever thing he wants to think forever to make himself the man he was before he sat on that bench. But that has never happened before and is never going to happen this time either. Even though unconsciously he is aware of the time, he decides to check his wristwatch anyways. It was, in fact, ticking quickly, rhythmically, that for a moment he thought it was more interesting than anything in his life, “it’s summer anyways wouldn’t hurt sticking here a little longer” as he comforted himself again. The world around his bench had never been more inviting to him, each moment was his escape from the man he had become, interesting maybe these are the times when you try to resist the urge to get back into the human you were, this excitement, this ability to observe and extract beauty dissolves in me, you desperately find reasons to stick, convince yourself of reasons and excuses that stop you from change, you procrastinate the change you find ways to delay the change because its too costly to leave this former self. “But I will turn back into the man I was, whether I wish it or not even if I were to die I am sure the last reflection I will see of myself would be this same wasted soul, the same tired eyes that don’t understand the term HOPE, it knows too much for its own good, I don’t know what will happen after my death but I know for sure Nothing, Nothing will be as colourless as that moment before it, It will be my final revolutionary realization and acceptance that a beautiful blooming life can go away so tragically, for all I am now is as good as the ashes after my death that will scatter away in the air of time leaving a faint weak reminder of a wasted soul.”
“No, no maybe I will also catch a glimpse of my younger self maybe all this was for that smile I adored so much on my face before I close my eyes, I wish I could see that, I would want them to have comfort on face, yes if anyone comes looking for it”
“Haha when was the last time closing my eyes felt this good? no ones left”
This was the man’s cue to get up he knew that his timer to find interest again had run out, he was standing at the end of the loop just a step short of turning back into the man he was before. The man this time without any resistance ah maybe with a little determination tries to get up. And out of nowhere a red rubber ball flaps on his dark gloomy pants, the impact of the ball due to its velocity pierces the space and hits his leg gently continuing its trajectory. A little girl appears before his static state as he lifts his eyes.
A young little girl about the age of 7 rushes towards him but slowing down as her eyes meet, the ball slips under the bench now at unreachable distance from the girl without noticing the man, it hides behind the man’s legs, the girl observes for a bit from the distance and her never faded smile shrinks a bit as she speaks “can you get the ball for me uncl erm.. sir? please!”
The man anticipates his movements as he realises it was the first time someone had said something to him in this park, in his mind this little girls stuttering words kept echoing until man grasped control over his mind again and leaned down to get the ball, as he hands it over to the little girl with a smile girl smiles back and says “Thank you!”
The man tries to speak so many sentences
“Oh what a nice girl you are”
“My pleasure young lady”
“Welcome, what is your name?”
“And you are? cute missy!”
but the swiftness of the girl turning around and going back to his friends leaves the man in state of momentary regret and momentary acceptance, as he tries to lift his head again which he lowered to talk to girl, he couldn’t lift it the weight of his thoughts, so he tries to lift his eyes so he can watch the kids play. The eyes fill with the liquid understanding that whatever he will see is going to be so beautiful that he won’t be able to accept it he wouldn’t want to see it as hollow as he was, his eyes start startling as he covers his face trying to suppress it, the amalgamation of his sorrow and the beauty of world he envisioned, it disrupted him so much that man starts weeping as if he had lost someone close to him the momentary encounter of that girl echoed how his life worked, every bond he had, everyone that hold on to him, whenever he tried to reach them it was always too late. Of course, the outside world finds it a bit odd seeing a grown man cover his face suddenly but the man manages to fool the world after all, if he can fool himself, the world was still secondary to him. The man desperately trying to stop the tears, he fails.. again.
well, he knows only after a certain threshold he can gather himself. “let it go” man let’s out a last thought before shutting his mind to silence.
Moments pass as the park gets less crowdy The man stops hearing the sound of kids and people, the squeaking sound of swings and slides gradually stops and the chirping of birds has now become noticeable. The man uncovers his face, puts his hands on the rusty handle. For a moment he looks at the sky takes a long breath and, he gets up takes his bag and leaves. The thin surface of the rusted handle is a little clear now the dust gathered on it is gone too, and the handle now shines brighter in the reflection of the setting sun.