The Bench Facing the Wrong Dir

79 words · under a minute

She sat on the bench

facing the wrong

direction, watching the

path she hadn't taken.

The afternoon light

settled on the empty

swings. A dog ran past

with someone else's joy.

She didn't feel sad,

exactly — just

unarrived, as if her

life were happening one

train station over and

she kept missing the

announcement. A breeze

moved through the trees.

It didn't solve

anything, but it touched

her shoulder like an old

friend who knew not to

ask.

lost · restlessness · afternoon · park · healing

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