apart Two

We walk to hyde park. All the way. It's fifteen minutes, the walk, and we don't speak, don't say a word once we've agreed the plan. The plan is to go get some cones from where the ducks are at and find a bench, it's a pretty good plan as far as I can tell, and as she sheds her coat and I offer to hold it, the traffic hums around us.

When we get to the grass, I go gather the requested and she finds a bench minus the splinters and the drunk. I come back with the ices, double flaked, and we sit side by side, watching a man jogs past in too short white shorts and a sweat soaked t-shirt, expelling air from his nose like a horse.

'Do you think I'm weird?' she asks.
'No.' I lie.
'But you don't know me.'
'But I don't think you're weird. Are you weird?'
'No.'
'A little?'
'A lot.'
'Everyone is a little.'
'I've never done this before, you know, met anyone.'
'No?'
'Not for real.'
'Right.'
'I haven't!'
'Ok.'
'Have you?'
'Never. Twice.'

A dog comes over, I pat his head and he looks at my ice cream, I hold it out and he schlups it in one take. I throw the cone in the bin beside me. It doesn't take much to make you feel good in the sun.
part one