a doodle

I’ll go to the park today. Now the air has turned chilly and the gingko trees are all gold. For the last week it’s been overcast but today the sun has shown himself, chasing the clouds from the sky to leave only a few wisps draped in the heights of the clear crisp blue. Yes, I’ll go to the park. At this time people will still be at work and in the shops along the way they will be drumming their fingers on quiet counters. Children will be coming back from school. Boys and girls in pairs, their yellow caps and their red backpacks, tugging one another along in games of tag. Or with their bicycles the middle school girls, swinging their schoolbags and always looking straight at you, stepping aside with a polite bob and picking up their laughter when you’re past. Their bright eyes, their neat, soft bangs, flashing their first earrings as they walk. They must think I am ancient. They must think I am ugly. I will not look at them. I will go to the park. There will be no one, only the pigeons dawdling for the evening. In the summer the hydrangea blooms used to make spots of gentle colour in the park shrubbery. There are no more flowers now. I will lean back on a bench and close my eyes and there will be no sound, no cars, nothing except the wind. In the distance a dog barks; on the gingko trees, the leaves are beginning to fall.

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