letters i never sent; wyatt oleff

dix-neuf

(real life btw)

I sit in the empty parking lot of six flags alone. I took a bus ride by myself just to spend my birthday alone. It's currently 6:53. Seven minutes till the park opens. Then I can ride Goliath, alone.

I sit criss cross on the cement of the empty parking lot. I wince as my thighs scrape against the pebbles scattered across the ground. My eyes search the ground and come across a piece of broken glass. I chuck it across the parking lot and watch it puncture a tiny blue bird. The squeals of the bird are the last things that come out of its mouth before it comes crashing down, coming in contact with the pavement. I run over and examine the bird. Pretty. My finger traces the streaks of blue in its feathers, and for a minute, it's just me and the bird.