@bullxtgirl
bullxtgirl
Francis LaVelle squared his shoulders as he looked about the large square of park that expanded until the horizon. He pondered quietly for a long while if this was truly a park, or if it was really an open field that stretched out until the next city. It wasn't a surprise that there were fields between here and the next city, really. Francis had experienced them. While, sure, roads and pathways led through them, sometimes the fun of the world was to walk through the knee-high grass and wild leaves and explore until there was nothing else to explore. But today? Today, no, Francis didn't want to walk through the grass and feel like he was on a different planet. Today, he wanted to escape the world, escape everything that had been piling up on his shoulders, suffocating him and drowning him and sending him into another spit of worry.
The writer's shoulders relaxed a little as he turned his attention from the park to the city behind him. He enjoyed this much more than the city, if he was honest. The city was so stifling, so suffocating to the author. It reminded him of his family, of how his brothers and father had turned their backs on each other, and how they had never been able to reconcile. Francis gave a gentle sigh and allowed his fingers to dance through his hair as he looked around. There were a few people here and there in the park, but not many; not right now. The day was just starting, and Francis loved taking early morning walks, even if the sun was still peeking out over the horizon. Perhaps he'd sit and write, or perhaps he'd sit and people watch.
He was quiet as he sauntered back to the path, deciding to take a seat on the first bench that he saw. The sun was coming up over his back, dancing warmth across his skin and shirt, and honestly, it wasn't that bad of a feeling. He leaned back a little and pondered, watching a few people jog by. Perhaps today was going to be interesting, instead of the rudimentary boring he was used to feeling lately.