Swing

A collection of short stories focusing on the memories and events at a small park.

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1. A brief return

Backwards. Forwards. Backwards. Forwards. Front. Behind. Front. Behind. Straightforward, and then straight back. I am in control. I feel at home. It's dark, I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? I can feel the wind coming up behind me, almost howling. It pushes me higher, my hair blows in front of my face, blinding me. I tip back my head and close my eyes tight and feel my drop backwards. I'm no longer in control. Nature has claimed me. I relax my legs, I'm slowing down almost to a stop. I'm swaying ever so slightly. I remember when I was here before, ever so long ago. We were here. It was summer. It was, better. He held my hand, I promised I wouldn't let go. I didn't. I hear a rustle from the bushes in the distance, that's my cue, it's time for me to go. I know I'll be back again soon. And I know he will be too.  

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