FREE FLYING HEARTS -- A collection of short stories from Tonig73

The Park Bench Chronicles -- Prologue

Eve folded her arms over her chest, squinting into the mid distance to the park beyond, leaning back against the counter during a rare break in her busy day.  The Cafe/Gelateria she managed had been busy today, the sun was out, and so were the people.

"Awww, look, he's there again" she told no one in particular.  Her eyes crinkled at the corners, not being able to stop the automatic smile whenever she saw him.  The always immaculately dressed man was in the park, playing with his daughter, she was what, 7, 8  years old ?  Today, he wore dark jeans, a baby blue sweater, cashmere it looked like, his well kept 'fro bouncing around his face as he and, she presumed, his daughter played together.  A beautiful woman sat elegantly on the bench a short ways from them, watching and smiling, encouraging their play.  He was gorgeous too.  Caramel skinned, a beautiful face, tall.  Not her usual type, but still.  She wouldn't be in a hurry to push him out of bed in the morning, she thought to herself, blushing slightly at the thought.  He was obviously the beautiful woman's husband or partner, the girl, her daughter.

Seeing him, she automatically looked across the park, her eyes finding the bench on the opposite side.  The other man was there now too.  Eve had a feeling he was homeless, although he was relatively well dressed, but slightly unkempt and disheveled, like he was trying his best to keep himself together, and it was only kinda, sorta, working.  He would always be lugging a large battered bag around with him, his belongings, she assumed.  He was tall and bronze skinned too, his hair in unruly twists, falling around his equally lovely face.  He had dark eyes, but a sadness seemed to haunt his features constantly.

Eve had served both of these gentlemen before.  The well dressed, gorgeous one would come into her small shop, his presence enveloping everyone and everything within a ten foot radius, sopping up the atmosphere, only to radiate it outwards again.  He would always get a large latte' to go, always paying for a suspended coffee too.  You know, where you can pay for another drink upfront, leaving it available for someone else who wanted, or needed it, a hot drink on a cold day, perhaps, but maybe who didn't have the where-with-all to buy one.  And it was nearly always the homeless gentleman who would receive it, embarrassed that he even claimed such kindness from a stranger.  Two men, sitting at opposite ends of the park, at opposite ends of a comfortable life and good fortune, unknowingly linked by a cup of coffee, and a kind deed.  

Eve registered the small ache between her brows, having had them scrunched up this entire time, worried for the homeless man.  He always looked so sad, so bereft.  And he always watched the well dressed man and his little girl attentively, and no, not like that.  Eve didn't think him capable of even thinking  that way about another human being.  He smiled as they played or chased each other around the playground, but it just seemed to make him more sad somehow.  She wondered what his story was, and she made a mental note to try to engage him in conversation the next time he came in.  He was always very shy, his head bowed, quiet to the point she almost couldn't hear him when he spoke to her, but she would try.  She wondered if he had a family somewhere, that might be missing him.  If he had a son or a daughter that he was missing too.  Why he was homeless.

"I'm taking a break while it's quiet" she told one of her girls.  She made herself a coffee, taking her cup and her notepad and pen to a small table in the corner by the window, out of the way, where she could observe her two gentlemen in the park quite clearly.  Her two gentlemen, she liked the sound of that.  They were both lovely, she would like to think, but now, she would make them so.  She opened up her brand new notebook, pushing down the first pristine white page so it would lay flat enough against the table, breaking the books spine, so she could write.  She gazed out of the window, watching the swaying trees that surrounded the park, the late afternoon sun light filtering through their branches and leaves, as she thought of the first words that would grace her first page.  After a minute, those words would be obvious.  So, in her best hand writing, she wrote ;

The Park Bench Chronicles.  

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Hello again, my peeps !  See, that didn't take long, now did it ?  

Two lives, SO different from one another.

How will they meet, connect ?  What will these two men have in common, if anything ?

How will their histories, their lives, their futures entwine ?

Read on, my loves, read on.  

I hope you love it.

Same applies here as always  ..... Tell me, tell me !  

T x