Helpless

The faint hum of traffic is heard off in the background. A reminder of the hustle and bustle that sits just outside everyone’s front door.

As I sit in my park I observe the suburban activity. An old lady pushing a cart, dogs chasing after balls, and a trickling stream of tradesmen driving off to fix someone’s problem.

From the corner of my eye emerges a couple. They proceed to take rest at the base of an old tree, cuddling for warmth and comfort.

The winds blowing leave a constant rumbling of nature in the air. The branches wave an eternal welcoming.

On the other side of the park, I see her. I’m not sure who she is, but I want to.

So I stand up and begin my walk over to her.

As I reduce the gap between us, more details come to light. She was reading a piece of literature – The Sorrows of Young Werther. Maybe she’s a romantic?

She is a beautiful girl. Short brown hair, and large navy glasses perched gently on her small nose. She gives off this feeling like you’d known her your entire life.

Maybe she would be the right one.

But I’ll never know. I just kept walking that day. Maybe the idea of her will be grander and more enduring than reality.

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