She had grown used to going to the park at 5 o'clock. It had became a routine. To her, it wasn't a chore, she liked it, she enjoyed hearing him sing and the soothing chords of his guitar.
He had also grown used to be sitting the wooden bench in the park at 5 o'clock. It had became a routine. To him, it wasn't a chore, and it didn't require any thinking either, it was like second nature.
But the difference was, she knew why and he didn't.
It was turning warm, but she never did go up and smile at him. She didn't know that he loved going on roller coasters but was afraid of heights, or that he could cook pretty well, but it was okay. He still had no inkling about the girl who stood behind him everyday at 5 o'clock, and that she was terrible at cooking, but it was okay.
He got up and left. She too, left, smiling.
Three months had passed, they still hadn't met.
Summer was here.
YOU ARE READING
Spring
Short StoryIn which he sings and plays his guitar everyday without knowing of the lost girl who sits behind a tree, listening to his music.
