Playground scene

                The comic books…The comic books where the same. Spiderman, Superman and The Hulk.  How many times had he read those?  More then he could count. He would shutter with slight annoyance every time he heard “just one more time” or “again Daddy” Seeing them now in this deserted back pack took him back to another life. He sat on the bench beside the bag for a moment  and took a slow deep breath in and out.  This was a technique he often used when the old life tugged at his thoughts.

         From his bench he could see and smell the evidence of an early spring day that more resembled summer.  Kids ran and screamed in the play ground and worried mothers applied sunscreen to unwilling little bodies.  In the crowd  was a little boy of about 7 or 8 with the familiar sandy blond hair and a short cut.  He was wearing jeans and a Spiderman shirt.  The boy was engaged in a game of chicken with a much bigger kid.  The man spotted him right away.

         Turn around, God, please just turn around,  he thought.  Of course it wouldn’t be, couldn’t be, him but the hope was still there, deep down.  He had to suppress his first instinct to tell the smaller boy to be careful.  Jimmy after all was dead.  Dead five years now.  After all he had been there that night when the cornier took his family away in that black city van. 

         But he still searched. 
         
         Even after  half a decade he still searched crowds for their faces. In the early time after it happened he’d gone up to strangers with a feeling of anticipation and excitement of having found his family just to find that they were indeed strangers.

         Another deep breath and the moment passes.  The man stands and walks toward the side walk.  From behind him he could still hear the happy sounds of kids playing. 

         A mom was shouting from the corner of the street.  The sound of feet pounding on the pathway behind him.


******

He’d almost bet him.  And would have had his mother not shown up.  She messes everything up. Bill a thorn in Dallas’s side since kindergarten.  This time he was going to show the older boy that he wasn’t a sissy baby.  But now he owed the boy his lunch money for the next week otherwise…he didn’t want to think about “otherwise”.

         “Coming, Mom” He shouted as he left the play area.

         From the jungle gym behind him Bill was singing “Sissy baby, Sissy Baby, going to get titty baby,” over and over again.

         He quickly grabbed his bag and started running as soon as he felt  the burning sting of impending tears. Faster and faster, he didn’t want he mom to call again, besides the wind helped stop the tears.  He wasn’t watching where he was going.  Next thing he knew he was on the ground and his things were everywhere.

****

           The man was almost knocked off his feet when the boy came careening into him. “Son, are you okay?” he asked as he picked up the comics from the ground and handed them to the scared looking youngster. 

         The little boy quickly nodded, “I’m okay.”

I must look bad. I’m scaring the kid. He touched his face and suddenly became aware of his smell and week old stubble. “Don’t worry  kid, I won’t hurt you.” He gave his best ‘Dad” smile.  This seemed to put the boy at ease a little bit.

         “I’m Dallas,” the boy offered his hand.  “Thanks.”

         “I’m Mitch,” the man returned. “Nice to met you.”







Author's note:I'vee not done editing at this point so it's still a little rough. Soo please forgive spelling and gramar goofs.