Where He Waits

He misses them, the children.

He never had any of his own, though he would have liked to. They tried for years, he and his wife, but it never took. His fault, her fault...they didn't know and decided it didn't matter. They'd made a life together, just the two of them, and were mostly content. Until she died.

To cure his loneliness he began to sit in the park and on the benches by the schoolyard. He liked to watch the children play. So innocent, so active, so alive. But the parents...they began to pester him. "Who are you watching? Why are you here? What do you want with these children?" A few times they called the police, and even though he'd done nothing wrong he started to feel ashamed. Then the telephone calls started, horrible people saying horrible things. And obscenities painted on his garage door.

Now he waits until winter to sit on the benches in the park and in the schoolyard. And he remembers the children. And he remembers his wife. And he waits to join her.