Tim whistled as he walked along a path in a seldom-used part of the park. As he meandered along, part of an overgrown shrub brushed against the pant leg of his suit. Grunting in annoyance, he didn't break stride but wondered, not for the first time, why his tax money couldn't be used for simple things like a little grounds keeping.
Then as he turned a corner, his thoughts promptly shifted from the flora to a bit of fauna.
She was sitting by herself on the green park bench. The bench looked vibrantly green as if it had been maintained while the bushes and such had been allowed to go a little wild. But in truth, the bench was made from recycled plastic and wouldn't lose its color for a long time, if ever.
The girl's t-shirt, on the other hand, was a bit faded from many washings before it had been purchased for her at a second-hand store. Her red skirt was more colorful but she was outgrowing it as it rode rather high on her. Sitting as she was, much of her small, tanned thighs were on display.
Tim approached the bench but the girl never greeted him. Of course, she knew she was not supposed to talk to strangers. He guessed her age to be about seven or eight which meant she knew about avoiding conversations with strange men. But the lack of discussion about the weather or whatever did not discourage him from sitting next to her; so close that his trousered leg was making contact with her mostly bare one.
If her clothing had seem some wear, the girl's hair was neatly done. Pulled tightly over her scalp from a part running along the middle of her head from front to back, it was arranged in two long braids on either side. Tim dropped on hand on his leg - the one next to the girl - in a seemingly careless manner.
The mid-morning was quiet with the early morning joggers gone and the lunch time brown baggers yet to arrive. Letting his fingers dance against his leg, Tim ventured sideways and managed a few brushes against the child's exposed limb with his pinky finger. Remembering her lessons, or perhaps a bit shy in the company of a strange man, the girl did nothing.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade
A MrDouble Production:
Changes last made on: Monday, February 05, 2018