A Story for the First Day of Spring

“I had to sell my drum machine to make rent. Dunno why I bought it in the first place.”

“Where should we sit?”

“I like here, right between these two sidewalks.”

“Too much mud.”

“We should stay away from edges.” I pointed to the muddy tracks along our stretch of sidewalk, then looked for higher ground. It’s difficult to find high ground in Chicago, in a park, next to a pond.

“We should stay away from sidewalks in general. How about under a tree?”

“Or many trees. Let’s head towards that copse.” I paused and started taking off my boots. “In a second.” The other boy’s hands filtered through his guitar’s strings as I pulled at my cement scarred boots. The girl, Nicole, moaned softly against the boy’s chords, a melody more for fire-lit nights than afternoons in the park.