Elise

Today,

An old man sat on a bench that was stationed at the centre of the park.

His iris, covered in unhealthy grey sheen, reflected the field of grass and flowers in front of him. His wrinkled face, that was etched by the countless waves called time, relaxed into a small ghost of a smile.

Worn on him with an air of normality, was a white chequered shirt with flowing sleeves, a plum pattern skirt that stretched down below his shin and a small unfit pair of deep red flip flops forced onto his too-large toes.

He made quite a bazaar scene.

Hung around his neck, a carelessly opened locket shows a blurred picture of what seems like a middle aged man with brown curls; standing beside him was a little child with blond locks and a smile so clear that anyone who saw it would have an urge to look back a couple more times.

He seems to be humming a tune. He rocked back and forth on the wooden bench as his smile stretched into a familiar pure and innocent one.

Abruptly, he stopped. His movement froze and his hands slowly made their way to the bench's arm-rest. Then he stood up with a small push; his arms shaking-

"Dad's gonna be mad if I get home late. I should go home. Let's go home..."

And he mumbled away dozens of incoherent phrases with his legs leading him away from the park.