He lumbers through the park, pretending to crack his neck to peek behind him. The trees lining the path go black against the brightness of the rising sun. Branches, thick with life, protrude overhead and reach toward him like the demons in his nightmares.
The gust of wind that shoots through his jacket makes him shiver, yet he’s still sweating from the glare of the sun. The uncertainty of the day reflected in its weather.
As he passes the kiddie park, the eyes of every spring rider watch him. Cow. Horse. Pig. Their smiling faces change to grimaces, taunting him until they’re behind his back. He cracks his neck again and shudders.
He sits on a bench. A dog barks in the distance. The rustling leaves behind him mimic the sound of angry waves.
He forgot to wash his hands. He stares at the grassy field as he yanks his gloves over hands caked in red.