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Twenty Four - Mr. Allen
Eric and I sat on a bench in Madison Park later that night, looking at the big fountain in the center. Our breath was visible in the air, my arm looped around his and our hands in our pockets. The only sound was that of the bubbling fountain before us.
"I love this park," Eric said. "It's beautiful. I haven't been here very often since I've moved here. I've only walked through briefly."
"I spent a lot of my childhood here," I told him. "With my father. His office is right there." I pointed to the large window of my father's office in City Hall that overlooked the park.
"Oh, really," said Eric, following my gaze. "What a nice view for an office."
I nodded, leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder, watching the water in the fountain. We were quiet for a few minutes more, sitting in a comfortable silence.
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