Her steps were lazy over the paved walkway as she crossed the park. She was definitely going to be late again. She´d probably miss the bus already so, why bother?
There was no wind that late morning. Lazy sun, too. Not even trying to get through the layer of clouds. Not white clouds, but not rain clouds either—just a pale blue-gray sky covering the park. It was almost as if the spirits had had a gathering the previous night and the place were slowly trying to get its energies back in balance again.
At the very end of the park, was the bus stop. At the bust stop, there was a bench. At the bench, a man was sitting. And she sat, too. The space between them just barely wide enough for a third person to fit in.
A sudden coldness touched her through the thin fabric of her skirt. It seemed not even the dew had noticed it was almost midday already. It was the aura of that day. Dull. Even the guy seemed oblivious to everything else. Sitting completely still with slumped shoulders and a slightly dropped head. Just staring ahead. He didn´t seem to recognise her presence. She wondered if he, too, would be wet and cold to the touch, she wondered if he had spend the night there, partaking with the spirits and as so, was hangover with the feeling.
Nothing happened. Not a soul crossed the park. Not a bird chirped in the woods. Nothing happened.
The bus came and went. She ignored it. Just like the guy, she stayed perfectly still. She stared at the nothingness in front of her. She felt the coldness of the wet bench dissolve into her warmth—or vice versa—until she no longer felt she was sitting in a bench in the park waiting for the bus. She was in the clouds. Not fuzzy, kind clouds. Not stormy, loud clouds either. She was amidst that pale-gray, boring fog. Dreary. Just like her.
A warm touch brought her back to the bench. Brief, fleeting, his fingers had grazed her shoulder and now hovered over, as if unclear what to do next. Past his outstretched arm, the previously still eyes were now wide and staring at her. He was curious. Surprised, even.
Maybe he´d expected to find her hard and cold and wet. Just like the dew covered bench.
Created in 5 min! Edited in another 10 hahaha written for today's prompt, wet.
