the park bench

t w e n t y o n e

t w e n t y o n e

joanne hadn't been to the park in a week and it was certainly taking a toll on her. she missed the blonde for sure, she missed her stupid jokes and laid back personality and she just missed her. ugh. stupid.

"jojo?" heather peered up from her magazine, shifting in the beanbag on joanne's wooden floorboards. "are you alright?"

"yeah," joanne replied distractedly.

heather frowned, putting her magazine down. "you picked up that comic and then put it down at least six times now." her friend sat by joanne on the bed with concern written all over her face. "is it because of your parents?"

"what? oh, no." in her distressed state, she hadn't even thought about the divorce. "it's nothing."

"tell me," heather insisted.

and so joanne did. she told her friend about the park bench, the conversations, the jokes and the diner, then she got to the end and faltered. heather listened patiently, never interrupting her, but silently egging joanne to continue.

"i walked in on her and ms. sanders when i went to get my books," joanne finally admitted.

heather choked. "ms. sanders is her fuck buddy? jesus."

the brunette shrugged, picking up the comic before throwing it back down.

"joanne, honey. do you have a crush on your blondie?" heather raised an eyebrow. "the lady on the comic is blonde, your brain is saying something, joanne. go to the park."

"i don't want to, it's so weird and i don't have a crush on her." joanne crossed her arms. "also she's not my blondie."

heather scoffed, shrugging her shoulders and picking up the magazine to resume reading.
"denial," she muttered.