Late Again

I smoothed down my hair and rubbed my forehead. I was going to be late again.

The clean up crew just appeared on the scene, but it would take them a while to clear the fallen tree in the middle of the footpath. I had no choice. I was going to have to use the long route. Shaking my head, I turned right and entered the park.

The park was just as I remembered it to be: the picnic area by the lake, the benches under each lamppost, the well-trodden brick path. I hurriedly moved past them all, anxious about my time.

I could see the exit not too far away, but when I rounded the corner, I stopped. I couldn’t help myself. It was the bench, our bench. I stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, and tears started falling down my cheeks.

Finally, I roused myself and absentmindedly ran a hand over our engraved initials on the armrest. With shaky steps, I hurried back to the life I chose instead of you and exited the park.

I hope to never be late again.

–
Image source: deviantart.com/leonidafremov/art/Empty-Bench-by-Leonid-Afremov-661845133
First written November 8, 2017.
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