Brisk wind sailed by the night cresting a plain white dress shirt and shortly following the man adorning it, forcing out its creases and forcing an ivory tie to sway as it lies loosely against his chest. A bench stood firm and chilled as so did the squarely taut jaw of the man sitting upon it. It was quiet that night. Despite the silence, there was one sound repeating past the wind which to most would be all but jarring to the senses, shrieking of metal as a swing lightly danced on its hinge. Ruby reds and cobalt blues of the cold, chipped posts which carried the old playground were muted by the darkness which choked it. Trees encompassed it’s grassy overgrown plastic edges in perfect symmetry as if placed with distinct purpose. On that bench sat square in front of the old playground, thick brown hair feathered in the wind, bringing ruin to the glistened, soft style the man who was sitting had composed. His diamond blue, watery, glazed eyes stirred staring at vibrant echoes in the sky which acted as beacons to other star systems he’d always dreamed to perhaps not see but at the least understand someday. In his wildest dreams those places far beyond human reach were wrought by passions and devoted hearts. Even with an imagination as warm and expansive as his, it was not what he was dreaming of now. Not while he was wide awake, although he did still dream. He dreamt of the hand beside him which lay in his, clasped together as if it were never to let go. He dreamed of the eyes that appeared more scintillating than the stars he watched, so much so that he knew if he stared into them for just a moment he’d feel a warmth so kind that he would fear looking away. He dreamed of the voice that held him close and warmed him with naught but few simple words. Most of all, the disheveled man dreamed of that together at that park, dreaming it to never end. Not long would pass before he would tilt his gaze down to his side and to his hand. Although, now his hand lie in isolation, as he was faced with a grim realization. Tonight, was not that night. Never again would he look down and see those eyes. Never again would he hear that warmth. With a exhausted sigh his hand unclenched, and even though she wasn’t there — finally, he let go.