Stone Heart Of A Concrete Angel
The field of the local park stretched off as far as the eye could see, enveloped softly by the last few rays of the setting autumn sun. Everything was still, the only sound a group of young boys shouting in the distance. A light breeze blew, and a couple of crisp brown leaves skittered across the green grass, circling and intertwining like lovers. Then the breeze stopped and the leaves rolled a little more before coming to a gentle stop, about half a metre apart. The sound of the boys shouting moved off, further away, until it wasn't even possible to hear it anymore. The park was once again completely silent and peaceful.
It was through this park that a man walked. His long black leather coat trailed along the ground behind him. It was buttoned up all the way, despite the warmth the early night had to offer. Bright, intelligent brown eyes flickered from side to side under a low-brimmed hat as he walked, like he was expecting an enemy to come up out of the ground at any moment. Shoulder-length dark brown hair showered neatly down the back of his neck, a few strands falling on his face, which was half covered by a scarf.
The man stopped and crouched down on the ground, a black-gloved hand reaching out to pick up a handful of rich soil, only to let it sift through his fingers again. His other hand pulled off his hat and tucked those strands of hair behind his ears.
"Where are you?" he murmured softly, to no one in particular.
