Kicking the tin can across the pavement, the clackity-clack-clacking sound echoing in the calm. The children have all gone home.

The sky was the quiet autumn blue, the air was still but for a light wind that whispered every once in a while.

He lost the can in a pile of leaves. A corner peeking through; glint of metal winking at him.

He walked purposefully towards the pile, hands deep in pockets, not noticing her watching him from the corner of her eye. She sighed and began to swing again.

The chains squealed, piercing the silence, giving her away. She winced. He stopped and the world stood still. He looked around. And saw her.

He smiled and the world started spinning again. The can forgotten, he walked over to her. Hullo there...

She looked up at him and remembered how it was. In the beginning. When it was just the two of them, and the rest of the world didn't exist. This was their Eden. Their refuge. He looked down at her and she looked down again. Shy, so shy, even now. It's been a long time... you still remember?

How could I forget? Near them, leaves dancing on the wind, whispering across the pavement, asking them to play with them again, like they used to.

It's unfortunate. As we grow older, we can also grow apart. And when we relive things, we forget the bad parts. Everything is perfect. Especially in the beginning.

Screeeeeee, the swing cried a sorry little tune, he pushed her into the air and she was flying again, the sky teasing her, back and forth, air whistling in her ears, her eyes streaking with tears. Thwump. Sfffffffft. Shoes sliding across sand, stopping her, holding her still. She looked back behind her, and he was gone. He never does stay long. She got up, walked away, and tried not to remember the past.

But she remembers this playground. She remembers coming here with him. She remembers the day he died. Clackity-clack-clack went the can, mocking her.

Clackity-clack-clack went the bullets, the deadly sound that took him away years ago. Leaves whispering across the pavement, shuddering in sorrow. Screeeeeeeeee, the tires squealed as the gunmen tore away. Thwump. Body falling to the ground. Sfffffft. Body sliding across sand, stopping him on the swing, holding him still.

That's what he gets for taking from the tree of knowledge. He should have known better than to share it with the others. See where it got him?

One last look around. Kicking the can, cursing the ghost, missing the past. Goodbye.

thank you