The light snowfall is the only evidence that time is still indeed passing. I take my steps slowly, yet fluidly, unsure of how else to act. There aren’t many people here this early, and I guess I can kind of take comfort in that. My shoes sink into the snow, just enough to let a few chucks fall in beside my sock, but my feet don’t mind. It’s expected, with being out here. What’s winter without cold?

In the distance, a young couple embraces.

The snow is starting to get annoying now, having to tuck my jeans into my sneakers to stop from further wetness. Despite my now damp sand cold socks, I continue to walk, having nowhere else of importance to be.

I look up through the trees lining the walkway, flurries land in my mouth and eyes, but it actually feels rather nice, compared to the ones in my shoes. Horns in the air signal the city coming to life, yet this park, this isolated haven, this oddly placed oasis does not have clocks, nor meetings.

Only me.