Benjamin Juang (ibneko) wrote,
Benjamin Juang

Random snippit.

"You worry about me worrying about you, don't you. Is that why you never tell me anything?"

He nods, eyes on the ground, watching the black beetle limp awkwardly away from an ant. She sighs and sits down next to him, on the once-white bench under the autumn-stained oak. The sun sets slowly, orange clouds turning blue, then dark blue, until finally, the streetlamps flickered on, a pale, dying color. He stood, and walked away without a backwards glance, leaving her in the fading light on a once-white bench.

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