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"This park hasn't changed a pinch," I said, staring up into the shading trees, little petals and leaves individually and delicately falling off of each one. It was like a little dance in the sky, so beautiful and intricate with each movement that they fell into. I grinned.
The elder lady resting beside me on the small and low stone bench chuckled, small crinkles forming beside her enlightened eyes. "How long have you been gone, then?" she asked, clearly full of her own stories and her own tales of time.
I scratched at the back of my neck, lips pursing and brows furrowing as I watched a flower floating its way across the gently trickling stream. "Five years, I think."
That was in fact somewhat of a lie. I knew absolutely that I had been away for five years. Five years, ten months, eleven days.
The old lady looked closely at my face—more wide-eyed than before and only now noticing my odd coverings. "Why are you so hidden, child? Something to hide? Or maybe hiding from something?" she asked me, indicating toward my strangely concealing attire. Her hand fluttered at him. "We all have our secrets."
I shook my head, giving a gentle smile to try and indicate sincerity. "I suppose . . . and I don't really have anything to hide, it's just a warm and sunny day."
She looked down to the clear, plastic cup she held in her small hands, probably once containing a cool drink to beat the wonderful heat. "Even more a reason to wear a black hat, I suppose."
My body physically recoiled closer to the other side of the bench, sensing where this conversation was headed. "There wasn't another hat in the house," I stated, simply.
"It's alright. John, was it? My granddaughter is a fan. There's no reason to try and hide from me," she said, acting as if nothing she was saying was a big deal for either of us. It probably wasn't; she's probably met Ghandi, at her age.
I felt my body tense harshly onto the bench below our pair.
Great idea with the hat, Cecile. Sneaky 100.
The air surrounding us stayed silent. My upper and lower lip were pressed firmly together, refusing to move from their position as if one movement would cause a storm of fans to suddenly recognise me.
I was unsure of what to say.
Finally, I released myself from this purely awkward tension. "Would your Granddaughter maybe like a photo or an autograph?" I asked, glancing my eyes over to her direction. I wasn't sure what else to offer.
She looked at me. I couldn't quite trace which emotion was present on her face. Guess I took those classes for nothing, then.
Surprising me, she grinned. "I think she would like an autograph. A photo that Audree couldn't be in, she would find quite disappointing," the lady said with a gentle snicker.
