A June morning.
I saw him at the same spot I've occupied a few days ago.
He looked lost.
Not the 'help me, I don't know where I am' kind of lost.
His posture screamed 'finally'.
"This is a pure maze," I told him and walked straight to the exit.
YOU ARE READING
Summer Park
Short StoryA June afternoon. I was standing in the middle of a park. And he happened to be there too.
