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Sunday at the Park (Part 1)

The man sits on the scabbed rock, picking absentmindedly at his hands. His clothes are torn, his spirit is destroyed.
The sky is happy, the sun smiling onto the almost empty park. Clouds cling to the top of the sky.
The man is mumbling raggedly under his breath, speaking in a raspy, guttural tone. His eyebrows are furrowed, looking as if they are cut into his forehead.
Finches hop along the street, eating breadcrumbs, tweeting absentmindedly. Canadian geese line the glassy pond, rippling its surface with the gentle push of their webbed feet, murmuring to themselves.
The man becomes slightly louder, pacing across the tired rock. He rubs his eyes, as if trying to get them to focus on something they can never see. Throwing his arms around him in raw anger, he curses.
A little boy about the age of two passes by the pond, giggling at the geese. His parents smile down fondly at him as they hold hands. The boy runs around them, laughing as they try to catch him…

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