swings.

[Audo]

swings.

The boy sat with his feet draped over the edge of the playground’s highest level. His feet swung softly as he buried his mind into the book he held up with one hand. The sun was hiding itself behind the clouds above and the boy did not mind this in the slightest, for it helped him read and he did not like the beating down on his head and he liked it colder than he did hot. So it worked well for him.

The boy was alone.

The boy, although alone, wasn’t the kind of person who generally likes being alone. But that was the state in which he was in at the current time – alone with nothing but his book to comfort him on the Sunday afternoon. It was how he had spent a lot of his time lately, to no fault of his own he believed.

But he was biased.

He turned a page of his book, not noticing the small little girl that had approached him from behind and was reading over his shoulder. The girl had long brown hair that went well past the middle of her back, and, as she leaned in to read the text in front of them, she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What’s your book about?” she asked innocently, causing a small jump in the boy. The boy – in his teens – looked at the girl. He paused for a moment, as the wind blew past them, ruffling their hair along with it.

“Suicide,” he said simply.

“So, you know who done it?”

“Done it? It was a suicide. No one ‘done it’.” The girl didn’t seem to take this logic to hear, and instead sat down beside the boy, her feet draping over the edge with his. The boy shifted in his spot to make more room for the two of them, keeping a cautious eye on the girl – unsure of whatever it was that she was doing.

“I see you here lots,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear once more. She was wearing a polka-dot dress, her hands resting on her knees as she kicked them back and forth. The boy didn’t say anything, but put the bookmark in his book and closed it. He turned and looked at the horizon with her, letting his feet kick as the breeze brushed by. “Where are your friends?”

The boy looked at her through the corner of his eyes before looking down at their swinging feet. “I don’t have ‘em,” he said. The little girl looked at the boy. Her face was not one of sadness, no; her face was still lit up with the same sense of happiness and innocence that she had when she first arrived.

“We’ll be friends,” she said.

“You don’t want to be friends with me,” he said, getting up from the playground. He jumped down off of the platform and landed in the gravel below them, making his way toward the swings. He didn’t bother to look over his shoulder at her, as he heard her stumble about as she took the long way off the playground.

He reached the swing set and sat in the spot on the far right. Slowly he began to pump his legs and swing higher and higher, hoping to reach the sky if only for a moment. She stood before the swing set, off to the side, and watched him. Tucking her hair behind her ear, her eyes followed him as he swung like a pendulum.

“Why not?” her small voice piped.

“I’m a lot older than you are,” he said.

“So? Why does that mean we can’t be friends?”

“We just can’t, all right!?”

She stopped asking, but she didn’t leave him. Kicking gravel as she walked, she made way for the empty swing beside him. Perching herself upon it, she began to kick her own legs and soon, she was swinging at the same pace as he was. He was watching her out of the corner of his eyes, wondering when she would finally give up in her attempt.

“Look, you don’t want to be friends with me.”

“Why not?” she asked again.

“Just... because.”

“That’s silly,” she said smiling. “Anyone can be anyone’s friend. I can be yours, and you can be mine.”

They didn’t say anything more on the subject. They just kept swinging.