That day I was walking by a park, when I saw the sun going down creating all the colours in the sky that would make even a stone a romantic. I realised that it had been a long time since I had enjoyed a beautiful evening and went into the park and saw a rusty old bench sitting on gravel on its thin bent legs. The green paint on it was peeling off and that made it look like a shriveled old man with scabs on his body. It looked as if the bench was complaining that it had lots of wisdom to give, only there were very few who actually wanted to listen to it. A butterfly was sitting on it and flapping its two wings slowly in a periodic motion, as if it was very slowly gathering everything the park had to offer and slowly taking all of it inside its tiny body.I somehow felt drawn to the bench, there was nothing that I could get from it but somehow I needed to sit on it.
As I sat on the bench, I had a look at what the park had to offer. There was the lush green grass on which if you sat, you would feel each of the tiny grass blades touching you as if telling you that it was there only to make you feel comfortable. There was the small lake not far away from the bench, on which a pair of geese where swimming together like a couple in love. As they swam, the waves that they produced disturbed the sun's reflection making the sun look like a happy person dancing.
I relaxed on the bench and breathed deep taking in all the smells in the park. I closed my eyes and stretched my legs. I felt everything in that small place, the old bench, each blade of grass, the ripples in the lake, the geese and the dancing sun had accepted me for who I am and were glad about it. I don't remember for how long I sat like that. Maybe a minute, maybe an hour. It didn't matter because I felt like I was in heaven.
I felt a small rustle of a dry twig near the bench and unwillingly opened my eyes to see who was causing the disturbance in my heaven. I opened my eyes and tilted my head towards the sound and there in my heaven I saw an angel. What else would one expect in a heaven, I wondered. I now realised what poets meant when they said beautiful. Her skin was the colour of a hazlenut and her hair was so black, it absorbed all the colours of the universe into it. Everything about her face could only be described as soft. The curves her cheekbones made, the ways her eyes looked at the world and the smile. She was standing near the bench and looking at the impending sunset and smiling, smiling as if she had discovered the answer to all the difficult questions of life. When she walked, her legs touched the hem of skirt and caused them to twirl, making it seem as the skirt was dancing a love dance. She approached the bench, slowly turned around and sat at the other end of the bench. I sat there, looking at the angel, afraid to talk, afraid to breath, afraid that anything I did would make her disappear. She looked like a beautiful rose, when the morning dew had just settled on it. She looked at a small wild flower growing near the bench, softly picked it up and looked at it with such fascination that I would have only seen in a child. She handled the flower delicately and I knew the flower was very happy. She sat there looking at my heaven and it seemed like the whole of the park belonged to her, with every breath of hers she was breathing life into it. I don't know for how long we sat there, just like that, she like the queen of the world and I like a man who had seen a God. Suddenly, she turned her soft face and looked at me. I saw a pair of beautiful black eyes, looking at me, taking me completely in them. It seemed like they had a purpose and I was sitting there, playing my part in helping that purpose. Her lips parted and a voice as sweet as honey told me, "Thanks for sharing this beautiful evening with me." Before I could speak a word, she stood up, turned around and started walking. I was too shocked to run behind her and beg her to talk to me more, to tell about herself and if not anything to just share that old bench with me for sometime more. But she was gone. I resolved to come back to this place everyday, to make sure that I would meet her, my angel, again. I started dreaming. I started hoping.
The next morning I woke up like a man in love, like a man haunted and like a man addicted. As I went about my morning chores there was nothing else I could do, but think, think like a mad man. I dressed up, and sat to have my breakfast, and opened the newspaper. There in the second page I saw her. Those same pair of eyes looking at me, as if taking me completely in. The heading read, "Girl Commits Suicide". I threw up. My angel had reached her heaven.