The sun came out today, a nice change in pace from the bleak and uninviting blizzards that discouraged curious passerbys from my street corner last week. When I was younger my mother would say such days weren't meant for wasting. Ironically enough, the week after her funeral was filled with them. Sun shining, birds chirping, flowers blooming. Not a cloud in sight. Perfect, or so it appeared.

But it's what my mother always used to say that brought me here, to the town park. It's currently home to more illegal activities than happy childhood memories, but it continues to house all of mine (all two or three of them, that is). It didn't use to look this way. That swing set over there used to be the talk of the town, at least for those of us under the age of 12. And that slide. It hasn't always been covered up with rust and gum. I even used to sleep under it when I'd run away from home. My stepfather never failed to find me here and drag me home the following mornings. This was a common occurrence after my mother died and became more and more frequent as the years passed. One morning he didn't come after me, though, and when I finally returned to his place, he wasn't there. Somehow I was the one always running away, yet he was the one who escaped.

This park doesn't bring the same comfort it once did to my preadolescent self. Nothing in this town does.

I'm not the only one paying the park a visit today. A young woman attempts to interest two young kids into playing with the distraught-looking play structure. Donald James is also here, just walking through, muttering under his breath as usual. I like him, though. He doesn't expect to get more out of this place than what it has to offer (which isn't much of anything). I remember him from a year or so ago. He had a few dollars he wanted to "waste on something useless," so he paid my shop a visit. He was skeptical yet amused, as most people are. I told him he was a man of routine, and this routine, however dreadful and boring, wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He should expect no changes, good or bad, and he better get used to it. He believed me, but he let me know he didn't think it was worth paying to hear. I agreed, but a cold front had come in that day, and matches don't buy themselves.

He gives me a nod as he walks past, and I return the favor. Both of us have an understanding of what it means to be part of this town, and neither of us are fooled by a bright, sunny day such as this one.

It's too cold to leave the shop today, though I doubt I'd leave even if it weren't. This hasn't kept others from wandering the streets, however. So, I make myself a pot of tea and position myself on an old wooden chair near the window. It appears that no one outside is prepared for a cold front like this one. A few pedestrians even have the nerve to beam their beady eyes in my direction, as if it's my fault. No crystal ball or deck of tarot cards could have predicted this blizzard, and this isn't to mention that weather really isn't my specialty anyway. That midget girl gives me the worst look of them all, though I am sure it has nothing to do with the weather. She visited me last week, and when I refused to refund her visit after telling her what she didn't want to hear (that her father was, in fact, right about her job choice), she stormed her stubby little legs right out of here. I also picked up on a hint of her meeting someone special in the coming months, but I saw her head angrily bobbing up and down on the other side of the shop window long before I had the chance to tell her. I suppose that's for the best. Good news is much better off when it's not expected. 

One girl doesn't look so angry as she passes by. In fact, she even forces a smile. From this alone I can tell she's new here. She also looks lost, and no doubt, she's probably wondering how she got herself into whatever situation brought her here. Whoever this girl is, she's in for a lot of surprises these next couple of days.