Love Park

by practicalspactical

A skater in his mid twenties, wearing a gray-tshirt and marooon shorts, hops the long steps of Love Park, picking up speed as he goes, and then spins around the corner out of view.

I sit on a bench and let my eyes drift back to the fountain, shooting up great gusts of water every other second which then crash down with a firm but blurry roar, ten thousand asynchronous crashes added together, solid but imprecise. The white spray hovers around the fountain’s base; the pool ripples with small waves.

In front of me, a girl stands on the edge of the fountain and hesitates, do it, I think, eat a peach, she looks at her friend, and then back at the water, the friend is having none of it, the friend walks off, the girl stays, slips her sandals off and sits. She is my age, I guess, in a gray and rainbow dress. She dangles her feet in the water for couple of minutes, then gets up and walks back over to her friend, redhead in a white skirt, less brave.

I take my tie off and roll up my sleeves. Twenty six years old, I think. More untrustworthy by the day.