english,
It’s a calm Sunday afternoon. I don’t usually do anything at this time but today, I decided to go out. I took a walk. The streets were empty. The usual beeping cars and bustling people were missing.
I walked to this park called Cherish. It is a few blocks away from where I live. I don’t come here often but the few times I’ve been here, it’s been peaceful. I used to come here with someone. He used to mean everything to me. I loved him. Now, I probably mean nothing to him.
I sat down on a bench under a tree by the lake. The scenery was beautiful. I pulled my book out and started reading it. Right now, I’m in two worlds, the world around me and the world in my book.
A man suddenly sat on the same bench I was sitting on. I was seated on the leftmost side, he sat on the opposite side. He sat down with his elbows on his knees. I don’t look at him but I can see him from the corner of my eye.
“Do you know what it’s like to come here?” he asks me. I don’t quite understand what he said. My book was too interesting for me to look up.
“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” I asked, still not looking at him. There’s something telling me that I shouldn’t even glance at him.
“Do you know what it’s like to come here? This place, in particular.”
“No…” I mumble, tangling my fingers into the fringe of my scarf.
“Um, do you come here often?” he repeats his question. I nod instead of saying anything. I hope he notices because I don’t think he has looked at me even once. “I go here every week. It brings back memories that I wish would happen again, even just once again.” He stares at his hands. I can tell that he’s reminiscing memories of the past.
Intrigued, I look up and ask, “Why? What happened?”
I appreciate the scenery before me but still did not glance at him.
“I lost my everything. I lost her. It’s been two years since then.”
There’s this silence between us. It’s not awkward. I just don’t know what to say.
After a while he finally says something. “Anyway, I have to go. I just needed someone to talk to. My name’s John by the way. Thank you.” Without another word, he leaves.
This time, I look at him. There's something about the way he tucks his hands into his back pockets, the way he walks, that tattoo on the back of his neck that is so familiar to me. He is like a memory that's been stamped at the back of my mind but I just can't recall.
Then, I realized it’s been two years since I lost my everything.
Literary: Cherish Park
It’s a calm Sunday afternoon. I don’t usually do anything at this time but today, I decided to go out. I took a walk. The streets were empty. The usual beeping cars and bustling people were missing.
I walked to this park called Cherish. It is a few blocks away from where I live. I don’t come here often but the few times I’ve been here, it’s been peaceful. I used to come here with someone. He used to mean everything to me. I loved him. Now, I probably mean nothing to him.
I sat down on a bench under a tree by the lake. The scenery was beautiful. I pulled my book out and started reading it. Right now, I’m in two worlds, the world around me and the world in my book.
A man suddenly sat on the same bench I was sitting on. I was seated on the leftmost side, he sat on the opposite side. He sat down with his elbows on his knees. I don’t look at him but I can see him from the corner of my eye.
“Do you know what it’s like to come here?” he asks me. I don’t quite understand what he said. My book was too interesting for me to look up.
“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” I asked, still not looking at him. There’s something telling me that I shouldn’t even glance at him.
“Do you know what it’s like to come here? This place, in particular.”
“No…” I mumble, tangling my fingers into the fringe of my scarf.
“Um, do you come here often?” he repeats his question. I nod instead of saying anything. I hope he notices because I don’t think he has looked at me even once. “I go here every week. It brings back memories that I wish would happen again, even just once again.” He stares at his hands. I can tell that he’s reminiscing memories of the past.
Intrigued, I look up and ask, “Why? What happened?”
I appreciate the scenery before me but still did not glance at him.
“I lost my everything. I lost her. It’s been two years since then.”
There’s this silence between us. It’s not awkward. I just don’t know what to say.
After a while he finally says something. “Anyway, I have to go. I just needed someone to talk to. My name’s John by the way. Thank you.” Without another word, he leaves.
This time, I look at him. There's something about the way he tucks his hands into his back pockets, the way he walks, that tattoo on the back of his neck that is so familiar to me. He is like a memory that's been stamped at the back of my mind but I just can't recall.
Then, I realized it’s been two years since I lost my everything.
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