A crisp packet flew centimeters into the air before gracefully dipping down to the concrete path before the wind picked it up again for another ride. The majority of the benches in the park were deserted, like sculptures covered in bird excrement and the initials of teenage lovers. Most were at work, continuing their emails and meetings, coffee breaks, and phone calls. The sound of stillness allowed for the rustling of the trees, shaking away the last of their auburn feathers, to be amplified. The park's walls prevented the sounds of the streets from infiltrating through the bushes.
An elderly man, strolling at the pace of the old, tipped his flat cap dutifully as I walked past. A smile reserved for passers-by took over my features, lifting the corners of my mouth and crinkling the lines underneath my eyes. He slowed to a pace suggesting that the next bench will be his rest stop for a few hours.
I felt eyes. A presence suddenly closed the corners of the park off. The trees craned in and all creatures stopped. A breeze, sharper than before, whisked the crisp packet up into my face before I had a chance to catch it.
My hand scrambled towards my face and tore away the fluttering of the crisp packet to reveal the park as usual. Birds began singing and the trees had lifted their necks, sprawling out their branches to the sun. I turned, remembering a bin next to the bench I had just passed. Screwing up the crisp packet tightly in my hands, I spun slowly, trying not to jostle the pattern of the wind too significantly.
There he was sitting with his ankle over his knee, his flat-brimmed hat, and winter's jacket. His eyes no longer carried the images of time but a light shone from them as they pierced straight into mine. The mouth that once smiled with the lowering of his hat now turned, causing the sagging of his cheeks to mirror that of his neck. But his eyes shone. I stared back, not backing down, not looking down as I caught the glint of metal in his hands. It rested on his thigh, balancing, locked, and loaded.
