“So,” The petite brunette frowns, “This is it?” The boy in front of her shifts his glance to the floor, shaggy black hair falling into his eyes. She lets out a single dry laugh, “I knew it.” She gracefully pushes the bangs from her forehead, “You finally trust someone and then… this.”
He raises his head with innocent eyes. “Look, I didn’t mean…” he trails off, letting his gaze shift back to the ground beneath him.
“Didn’t mean what? To choose her over me? Because I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen by accident,” she rebukes, hands going to her hips.
“I’m sorry.” he chokes, looking into her eyes.
She breaks eye contact, shifting her gaze to the children running around the playground. A tiny blonde girl giggles and squeals as she tries to run away from the mini brunette boy chasing after her with a worm. The features of the small girl shift into her own at that age, running away from her crush, the boy across from her. She tears her eyes from the scene and stands up briskly, “No you’re not.”
She hears him calling her back with apologies, but keeps walking. The calls cease and she slows to a stop with a sigh, eyes cast downward. She looks over her shoulder to confirm the vacancy of the rickety wooden bench. She briefly scans the area for her former acquaintance and takes slow, uncertain strides back to it. This bench, set back from the rest of the park in the shadow of the forest surrounding the park on two sides, has taken up most of this girl’s life. She takes a seat in the center and thinks how ridiculous it must seem that a mere combination of metal and wood can be so important to someone, but under the circumstances it would be strange for it not to mean a lot. The small girl leans to her right and lies down on her side, legs curled, arm beneath her head to save it from the ache the hard surface would cause.
It’s starting to get dark and the children are being gathered up by their parents one by one. Finally, none are left and she can’t help but let a sigh escape her lips, her sole amusement gone. Thoughts come flowing back into her mind, leading to memories, leading to tears. She might have handled the situation well earlier, but she isn’t made of stone. She doesn’t understand why she’s out here all alone, crying on a park bench over a stupid boy when she could be inside her nice, warm house drinking hot cocoa and chatting with her friends online, pretending none of this has happened.
But here she is, with her tear-stricken face doing just that as the temperature steadily drops and the sky darkens. Any other night, she would be watching that beautiful mixture of oranges, blues, pinks, and reds, admiring the beauty of the world, but this just isn’t the time. She can’t admire anything at the moment. Not her life, not her friends, not her world. She scrunches her hands up in her red, Fox sweatshirt and wipes away her tears. The ends of her sleeves are covered in black from the eyeliner running down from her eyes; she doesn’t care. She uses her arms to push herself into a sitting position and waits a minute for her head to stop spinning.
With a sniffle, she wipes each cheek again and gets off of the bench that is now just an old bench that should have collapsed by now. She realizes sitting on some lost hope won’t do her any good. Note to self: next time you fall for a boy; don’t set yourself up for failure. She takes one last look at the worn-down seat before walking away to the hot cocoa and movies that await her back at the building she calls home.
