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I was supposed to leave but then you came, so I stayed for a while to keep you company and to not act rudely. There was that familiar silence which occupied the space between us. I've heard of this before. This silence of strangers, I am familiar with it because I always leave like this. I keep myself distracted by taking glances at the scenery in front of me and once in a while flipping my notebook which bear my old writings. I didn't turn at you. I'm not good with eye contact and conversations. A minute pass by perhaps, I didn't notice. All I did was watch the view of the swimming ducks and passersby in motion. By remaining seated here now, I already lost quite a quarter of my time. I always do these things.
When at last I put up myself to have the courage to walk away from that bench, few of your friends came over and greeted you. I took that chance and walked away while you all are talking. I heard your laughter from your friends' jokes. Not a single head were turned towards where I was. I knew right then it was alright to walk away in the first place. Nobody will notice my presence just the same as always. No one will notice. Nobody. No one.
But why did I thought everyone was staring? Why did I caught glimpses of eyes on the trees? And why did the bench spoke to me to sat down a bit longer?
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YOU ARE READING
Stories Weave From The Bruises Of Imagination
Short StoryA bundle of short stories that I've written. Revolves on fiction, fairytale, random stories, daily scenes, human stories. In here lies different perspectives, narratives, and circumstances each character has taken ahold on each their path. Certain...
