SUNDAY AFTERNOON, I can’t even tell whether it’s warm or cold. Maybe the contradicting warm radiance of the sun and the cold zephyr made it difficult for me to describe what type of day today. I rather conclude that today’s something between cold and warm. I was alone, here on a place where children play. All those hand-written messages are still there. I caressed the rusty old swings, those dirty monkey bars, and peeling paints on slides. Just then, I realized it’s been a long time since I last visited this place.
The atmosphere became too cruel. The blue-ocean-like sky turned into something gloomy. The numbing air turned into moist. Wind became stronger. Birds started to go home to their nests. The big drops of water started to fall from above making the ground wet.
I saw a helpless boy. His body was completely wet because of the rain. I knew he was hiding his pain. I can see those eyes who try to hold back those tears from falling. He can’t, it’s too much for him to handle. I tried to convince him that everything will be fine, that everything will end up being okay. It was too late.
I looked at the puddles on my feet and saw my reflection.
That boy is me.
