A June night.
I was sitting on a bench shivering. Eyes closed, mind empty. My clothes were no armour against the cold wind.
"Even the wind is warm in this hell hole," he said leaning on a tree.
I opened my eyes scanning his warm looking hoodie.
"Maybe you should put on warmer clothes next time."
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.
