setting through a characters eyes

My fingers traced the etches on the tree. KB loves SP. I wondered if SP loved KB or if KB was even still in love with SP. Probably not. Carving your name on a tree one drunken night doesn’t hold things together, despite what all the other initials might think.
I walked down the concrete steps and sat on the edge of the stage. An imaginary crowd stared back. They shifted in their seats and fiddled with their hands. I could tell they were bored. I cleared my throat say something but stopped. I was bored too.
The space was too big and I couldn’t think. I got up and moved into the crowd, squeezing in between a man and woman, but as I sat down they disappeared.
I watched a biker appear and disappear between the trees as he struggled up the hill. If he looked he could have seen me, but he never looked. I was in the middle of concrete surrounded by nature surrounded by more concrete. Close enough to be connected but far enough to be alone.
I got up again and climbed to the top of the steps. I pulled out my pocket knife in front of the tree where concrete meets nature. Layer by layer I chipped off the bark until I hit the flesh of the tree and then I kept digging. I scarred the tree with my initials. JM loves. The knife was light in my pocket as I walked away. I liked it better unfinished.

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troe

September 24th


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