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Flash Fiction |
At the Park Walking through the park. I’d rather be home watching TV. My doctor made it quite clear that if I didn’t start getting some exercise, I would find myself watching TV because I couldn’t walk anymore… The park has benches along the route and frankly, I sat down on almost every one of them. Sitting, about mid-way along, another walker sat too. This was actually not polite according to unwritten park rules. You never sit on an already used bench unless you know the person. I was quite sure he didn’t know me. He spoke, “Do you believe in ghosts?” There was nobody else even close, so I knew he was talking to me. Well, I can be polite… “No,” I said, softly, and turning away from him to end the conversation. But he spoke again. “I don’t either. I just don’t understand…” OK, I was hooked. I turned and looked at him. Normal average, seemingly polite guy. Actually, looking confused. It certainly didn’t look like a scam. So, knowing my wallet was safe and there were other people nearby, I asked, “Why are you worried about ghosts? Do you think you saw one or something?” “No,” came back the answer. “I think I am one…” Well, that was a switch! I must have looked uncomfortably surprised, he added, “I’m sorry. Don’t mind me…” I would have loved to not mind him, but I didn’t know what to do. Get up? Ask him questions? As I turned to say something that would make my walking away as polite as possible, he suddenly melted, like a cloud of dust. I flew home, fast! Since then, I’ve walked daily, on purpose, I want to see him again. And now, I don’t know if I’m afraid to die, or afraid to live... |