Park Bench

In the park I sat on a bench and looked around. On one side of me was a woman, young, with a shaved head. She was crying, tears in the corners of her cheeks, fingers wiping at them and trying to press them back into her eyes. On the other side of me was a woman, older but strangely beautiful, with her legs crossed and her hair grey. She was laughing, reading from a piece of paper, every once in a while leaning backwards to stare up through the trees to the sky and send her tiny laughs upwards.

They stopped, and after a few minutes, left. I stayed on the bench for another half an hour.

I don't think they saw each other.