Park Bench Conversation.

She sat next to me on the park bench and we both did not say a word.

"Cold, isn't it?"

Sure is.

Just me and her, on the park bench, as we stared at our books or at our laptops or at the people walking in front of us. Watching life walk past us.

"How's your day?"

It was all right. Just the usual. You know, the usual jerks and perks.

"Oh yeah."

It was her and me, sitting on the park bench as the sun started to fade and the wind started to blow. She shivered and blew into her cupped hands and tucked them deep into her pockets.

Sure is a cold day.

"You betcha."

Only me and her, in our existing universe, wanting so bad to exist, to be someone. To be something. Something more meaningful than just another passerby.

I huddled deep into the upturned collars of my jacket and looked down at the fallen leaves that twirled and played footsie with my worn out shoes. The scarf fluttered in the dying breeze. There were less people on the footpath now.

Hey, um...

"Yeah?"

You wanna grab a coffee?

"Only if its a mocha."

And only if I can pick up the tab.

"Deal."

As we stood up and headed towards the gleaming lights, she linked her hand with mine and leaned her head on my shoulder.

"Gloria sorry."

Kissing her nose, I smiled. She smiled back.

I know. Moto moto sorry too.

And we walked in our silence to the promised warmth of coffee.