Stranger at The Park (Indo/Eng)

Stranger at The Park (English)

I glanced upward. The sky remained overcast, a thick blanket of gray clouds reluctant to part. The wind, though timid, possessed a quiet strength, rustling the branches and whisking away frail leaves that could no longer cling to their branches.

As I exhaled, I pulled my jacket collar tighter. Today felt colder than usual.

The boy on the swing halted mid-air, swiveling towards a distant voice. His nanny stood at the garden's edge, her hand clutching her jacket collar as if warding off the wind's chill. A golden retriever bounded about, joyously chasing after a discarded stick, while its somewhat indifferent owner looked on.

"It's time to go home," the nanny called to the boy. "Looks like a storm might be on its way."

A storm, I wondered bitterly. How fierce will this one be?

As I scanned the garden, another figure caught my eye. It moved closer, its steps quiet and careful, almost as if it were gliding rather than walking. When the figure settled onto the park bench beside me, I hesitated, sensing its presence despite the lack of sound.

"Nice weather, huh?" The voice was deep and warm, akin to a comforting cup of hot chocolate on a chilly winter evening. I observed him silently. He was tall, wearing a head covering that partially obscured his face and a long gray coat that seemed freshly worn.

"Yesterday was better," I responded. Whether this man was blind or simply trying a small talk, his lack of awareness regarding the current weather was obvious.

"Going for a stroll?" he asked.

In this weather? "No."

"Oh, sorry..." His smile was wide and cheerful, resembling that of a child's. "Looks like you're all set to leave."

"No chance. I'll just hang out here," I replied firmly.

"Even with today's less-than-perfect weather?" His attempt at conversation grated on my nerves, although I knew he likely meant no harm.

"Back where I'm from, it's sunny all year round," he continued, pulling his hands out of his pockets and gesturing towards the sky as if seeking a blessing. "Sure, we get a bit of rain sometimes, but it never lasts long. We never complain; after all, the flowers need their water."

I suppressed the urge to snort. This man must belong to some fanatic environmentalist group.

"Is it always this cloudy here?" he inquired.

I took a deep breath, shifting my gaze away to convey my lack of interest. "Yeah. It's gonna rain soon."

"I see. Did you bring an umbrella?" he persisted.

"Nope."

"Even though it's been cloudy lately?"

His persistence was starting to irritate me. "Cloudy doesn't always mean rain."

The man chuckled and nodded, his olive-shaped eyes a deep, dark green like moss. "You're absolutely right."

I studied him once more. His curly hair cascaded in large blonde waves around his broad forehead. His face bore few wrinkles, making it challenging to gauge his age, but I estimated he couldn't be much older than thirty. He was unfamiliar to me. Perhaps he was a relative of one of the families in the complex, visiting for the holidays.

"I'm Mike," he introduced himself, extending his hand. Despite the freezing temperature, he wore no gloves.

I hesitated before responding, opting not to reciprocate the handshake. "Hello, Mike."