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Upon reaching the park, I sat at a nearby bench, scanning the countless faces in search of the girl. I found her in the same spot as before, far off from where I was sitting, reading another book. I was about to go and return the book, but I found myself watching her again. I wondered if she only came here to read. Does she do this with all her time, does she have anywhere else to be? A job? A family? For some strange, unknown reason, I imagined what her whole life was like. One filled with no worries or heartache. A completely sane, filled with enjoyableness life. She was the youngest child with two siblings, a brother and sister, though she acted the most mature while taking care of her family. Her mother and father loved her and were so proud of her full scholarships into several colleges. She loves reading, obviously, and was valedictorian of her senior class, She is taking a year off to become more in sync with nature and find herself. And that is why she has spent every day, the past few months, laying in the wet grass, reading. She loves classical and jazz music; loves cats, and dislikes dogs. She never fights with her siblings and is the first one they turn to for advice. She wants to be a teacher for young children when she's older. She'll go to the college of her choice and graduate with top marks. She'll fall in love with a classmate she met at a lecture; they'd compared notes every day after class, and had slowly developed feelings for each other. He'd proposed to her on their four year anniversary, surrounded by family and friends. They'd gotten married at a beautiful church and went to France for their honeymoon. She's old now and has five children, along with sixteen grandchildren, all who love her dearly. Her husband whispers in her ear every night about how beautiful she still is and how much he lov- I hadn't realized my fists were clenched until I felt my hands break through the bench I was sitting on. I quickly relaxed my hands, but made sure to compress the bench further in order to remove the noticeable finger marks embedded in the wood. I sighed. I haven't felt that. . . anger?- no, jealousy. I was jealous- in years. Not since Bella had been won by that Black mutt. Why on earth would thinking about the girl's life- well, really making assumptions about her life- cause me to feel that way? Jealousy of what? Maybe, perhaps that this human will be able to live out her life the way she wants to, with endless possibilities. Only need to go to school once, obtain the job she wants, get married, have a family. All the things I would have done if I hadn't gotten that influenza and my humanity hadn't been robbed from me. Those things led me to Bella, and I lost her, too. So yes, I was jealous of this insignificant, little human. I was jealous of her being able to obtain everything while I just seem to keep losing all that I have, including my sanity. I couldn't stay there any longer. I rose to leave, but not before casting a glance at where she was once more. She was gone. Again. I groaned. Something was laying where she had been. Another book. Is she purposely leaving them here? Is it just a coincidence, and she just happened to forget two books in a row? Why did I never notice her leave? And why do I keep asking myself questions as if I am able to answer them? I'm the one asking in the first place! I sighed again. I picked the book up and held it, along with the other one. Tomorrow, if she's here, I am going to return these and get my chance to find out why her mind is so silent.
