she would always read alone (preferribly poems and books she read again and again, never getting tired of them, because those were her favorite kind). she would sit alone on that chestnut colored bench in front of the man-made lake in the town's park every saturday and sunday (because those were the only days she could make out time to come).
it was peaceful and serene there. you would only hear the birds chirping and kids playing - and since she hated the sound of their pitched screams, she would always bring a pair of earbuds that would block out the sound only softly, so that it would only be a quiet murmur. she could hear the wind tease the trees and see the sun shine through it's leaves. she couldn't ask for much more.
this had become a weekend routine. every saturday and sunday she would sit there, with a book an old, tattered journal, and write, or read, or both. and she would calm down and feel free and relaxed again. but, one day, while writing on her brown leather journal with random doodles on its cover and a coffee stain in a few pages, a sudden 'BANG' was felt on the left side of her head.
rubbing her black jet hair, she suddenly felt rage replace the serenity she had a few seconds ago. don't we all hate when we're sitting peacefully and suddenly someone comes in barging into your room or whatever, scaring the shit out of your shit?! well this felt somewhat like that.
'what the hell?!' she asked herself.
turning around with furrowed eyebrows and a frown on her lips, she saw a flustered and embarrased man running towards her. 'that must be who hit me.' she stated in her head.
"would you please learn how to properly throw a ball before doing so in a park full of innocent people not wanting to have dog saliva all over their hair?!" -though she wasn't so mad about the slobber (even though it was quite disgusting) in her hair, she was more upset over the fact that she had been disrupted so suddenly whilst she was concentrating on the words of charles bukowski. she angrily yelled at the brunnette and disappointely handsome blue eyed man. (she had quite the soft spot for men with stubble, brown hair, and blue eyes).
"im so sorry," he apologized, rambling the words three more times afterwards, in repeat. he was panting slightly from having to run to the pretty - but angry - girl in front of him at the moment all over from the patch of green grass a 15 feet away where he was playing fetch with his dog, boy, and an old friend.
'how can such rude response come from such a sweet and innocent looking girl?' he thought amusedly.
"yeah, well, sorry for your ball." she said.
"wha- HEY!" he was cut off by seeing the petite crouch down, grab the slobber covered, green, bitten ball from the trimmed grass and throwing it surprisingly far into the lake. he watched the ball with an open mouth fly through the air before landing with a small splash into the lake.
"are you mad!?" he spat at her, whom only sarcastically smiled, satisfied with her sudden -and mean- reaction.
"oh, im definitely mad."
and he couldn't help but in the moment not feel as angry as he should have been towards the girl. perhaps it was just because he could always find another ball for boy. he certainly wouldn't mind. or, maybe it was because the sun was setting and the light reflected on the lake so beautifully that he couldn't feel any sign of irritation in himself but admiration for the way she looked in that angle. or, maybe it was simply because she was nothing like he had expected while studying her for a few weeks now from afar and that only sparked up his curiousity toward the tanned girl even more about the girl. from only three chestnut colored benches away while playing his old, sticker covered guitar and writing stupid, pointless love songs, he would watch her every single saturday and sunday -occassionally on late fridays- from 1 in the afternoon till 5 p.m.
