The Summer of 21 {complete}

O N E

I was currently sitting in one of the swings at the park. I've always enjoyed the swings. They make you feel like you're flying. You feel like a bird, free from any harm. Free to do whatever you want. You see, birds have always had a special place in my heart. I've been able to admire them from afar, but ever since I watched this documentary that spoke about animals and our attractions to them; I can't help but feel as if birds were my spirit animals.

"I've always wanted to be a bird. How about you stranger?" My unknown companion was sitting on the bench. His hand held a book, and when he answered, he didn't lift his gaze. I found it quite impersonal to say the least. Yet again, we didn't know each other.

"I'm not sure you noticed but I'm trying to read." See, I wasn't sure how he was actually reading, since a few chunks of his hair were above his eyes.

I looked at him for a bit, not caring if it seemed creepy. I mean, birds watch us humans all the time and we don't find it creepy. He had a nice side profile. His nose seemed just the right size. I couldn't really tell his hair color, since the only light illuminating us was the moon.

"How are you reading? You can't possibly see." I had a need to make conversation with people. You don't realize how much another person can teach you unless you talk to them.

"I can see." I stood up from the swing and walked up to the bench he was sitting on. Messy brown. That's his hair color. There was a small flower on the seat, so instead of crushing it, I took it and sat where it was.

"A gift for you. I hope you like flowers." I was putting on my best 'I want to be your friend,' face. He didn't take it. He didn't even look up. I guess I wasn't so friendly after all. "It's okay if you don't like flowers. I personally don't like them. I think we should appreciate rocks more. They're pretty as well. Plus you can paint on them." At the mention of painting, his eyes stop moving from sentence to sentence. They just stopped.

"You like painting?" I asked, trying to stir up the conversation. I mean, this guy was impossible to talk to.

"No." He said, continuing his reading. I started peeling off the pedals of the flowers, in my mind doing 'the he loves me / he loves me' not game. Nothing seemed to catch his attention.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

He loves me. 

He loves me not. 

He loves me, I whispered after pulling out the last petal.

I looked up at the moon again. Full moon.

Maybe I'll see a werewolf. Wait. What if he is a werewolf... no, that wouldn't make sense.

"The moon is really pretty right? I can tell she's insecure. She only shows half of her."

"That's not how the moon works" Way to kill my happy bubble stranger.

"Then mister, I'm so mysterious reading in the park, tell me how it works." He stayed silent, but instead of continuing reading, he closed his book.

"Do you think there are multiple realities?" He initiated the conversation this time. It caught me off guard to say the least. This was an interesting question; were there multiple realities? Or did we, humans, make it up as a way of hoping for better things or thinking about the whole other life situation.

"Sometimes."

"Well in another reality, I am able to read calmly without your annoying self here." He truly was a lovely stranger, note the sarcasm.

"I don't think I'm annoying. You just seem too quiet." His eyes met mine as he raised an eyebrow. That's the biggest reaction I'd gotten from him. His eyes locked with mine. I couldn't really tell his eye color since the darkness didn't allow me.