The Park Bench

**Based on true events, involving myself.**

…

It was day three of the refrigerator letting out a wheezing cough as I opened it. My stomach yearned for the taste of something other than the back of my throat. The night I spent, fighting the churning pangs, forcing sleep on myself before I inevitably gave into incessant hunger. I couldn’t do it any longer. The white walls—the white refrigerator. The droning noise in chronic silence. It was dizzying.

I managed to find a pair of clean clothes—I wasn’t able to wash in at least a month, my allowance of quarters simply fizzled away into nothingness—just as I did. A forgotten thing, a discarded item, simply another leaf in the wind—except, unlike a leaf, I had no purpose. I couldn’t melt into the ground and become life-bringing mulch, to nourish the scavengers, to produce any fruit. I couldn’t fly and plant a seed far away, and somewhere a tree could remember my sacrifice. I was nothing—and was to be, nothing.

After an unsatisfying shower, I donned my mask and clothes, and went into fresh air. The smell of the grass, the warmth of the sun, though during the fall it felt as if the Sun slipped away into the wind. I felt nothing. Looking into that blue sky—I felt no freedom. I still felt that cage of those walls closing around me. My freedom wasn’t to last. I had to be quick, my hunger wouldn‘t allow time to pass.

Briskly I walked, knowing my destination wasn’t far. I knew of a place that could provide what I looked for. I knew what my plan was. The grocery store loomed on the horizon, the letters captivated me—it felt like I hadn’t seen civilization in years, though really, it hadn’t been but a month. I remained indoors in fear that the ever-looming eyes would lash out again, accusing me of god-knows-what. I wasn’t to be seen or trusted. I was a thing, a thing to be forgotten.

It felt like forever, but I finally walked through the doors of my salvation. There were voices and sounds, smells that I missed—produce lining the aisles, reds, greens, blues—candies, cakes, cookies, it was bliss. The white walls of the refrigerator were forgotten in this place. In the past, the grocery store was my bane—now? —It was my only friend.

I scanned the place quickly, eyeballing any cameras, security and anything that would get in the way of my goal. I made it a point to remain as conspicuous as possible, acting innocently, carefully checking each item as if I were another clueless shopper. I casually walked to my left, and straight ahead to an area obscured by shelves, and unironically removed from people. A yellow box of lemon cookies caught my eye. I felt my stomach turn again—I needed this. Days of being abandoned took my senses into overdrive, the explosion of taste taking my fantasies into reality. I couldn’t wait, every hesitation abruptly left as I thought of the fullness of my stomach. I grabbed them, and stuffed them within my coat, making sure to avoid contact with anyone. Thievery wasn‘t my strong suit. I held my breath as I made my way back to the entrance, my heart jumping through my chest knowing what I just did. A teenage thief. Who would’ve thought?

I passed with deceptive quickness, passing security and managing to escape undeterred. I released my breath, letting out a silent chuckle, feeling a sick happiness as I clutched those cookies in my coat. The plastic surrounding them couldn’t be any louder, but I didn’t care—hunger was calling, and I needed to sate it.

Walking toward “home”, I knew that I’d be had if I returned with an item that no one knew where I’d originally obtained it. They would take what was rightfully mine—and like an animal, I claimed possession—rabidly thinking, “they’ll take this from me! No! I can’t—they’ll found out, they can’t find out, they’ll hurt me!”

I remember walking until I saw the park. It was casually placed by the local library I visited before my isolation. The gazebo stood as adequate shelter. My ordeal was almost over and I could finally eat!

I took myself and my prize and sat on the cobalt blue park bench. The seat was cold and uncomfortable, the metal felt like it was jutting into my bones. I didn’t care—nothing was more discomforting than the hunger. I removed the package from my coat and sat it on the similarly colored table in front of me.

My stomach angrily groaned. Oh I needed this—but then… I hesitated. I looked up from the yellow package, and saw… Life.

The sounds of the children playing. A group of men, engrossed in a game of basketball, sharing laughter. A mother with her children, a father taking them into his arms. A couple lazily enjoying the Sunset.

I saw Life. Life passing me by. That park bench stood as an anchor, holding me in time. Everything that was dull became full of color. I remembered the warmth of the Sun—remembering that it loved me.

—something fell down my cheek. I reached up a hand to clear it. Tears formed in my eyes as I watched Life from this park bench.

There was beauty in this humanity. But… I could find none in mine. On that bench—I was reduced to an animal. Clawing, and scavenging for a meal.

And then, I ate. Wiping salty tears away, mixed with the tang of lemon. The park bench and I stood in time.