April 13, 2013 by allsho
Looking through my archive, I discover I don’t think much of benches.
Probably the reason can be found in this single one bench I found: hidden, empty, in the shade, utterly uninteresting. This is probably how I like benches. At least those in a park.
And I feel this is because, as ailsa points out, a bench in a park is the unimportant set for stories.
You can’t see Pablo, he just left, after waiting for two hours. At the beginning he wasn’t sure Ines would come, but it didn’t take long for him to be sure she wouldn’t.
This was an appointment jotted down on the corner of a page five months before, when Ines had told him that she liked him, her trainer at work.
And Pablo for the first time had looked at his trainee with different eyes, and while he liked her, and told her, his eyes low, he didn’t like himself doing so. He had then asked her when her training would end, he added one day and wrote the date down on a piece of paper he ripped from his diary. He added “Retiro, 5pm”, the meeting place, “20 years”, their age difference. And finally “think about it”.
So she had thought about it. And somehow, Pablo felt his heart was lighter as he got up from the bench and walked away.