"I get world sick every time I take a stand." - Broken Social Scene

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Every day, at around five o'clock, a girl wearing a woolen, button-up coat and a red scarf walked by Apartment Room 248 on Hickory Avenue. Her long, chestnut hair whipped around her face when it was windy, and the autumn's turning leaves had a tendency to tangle themselves in her hair when she was least expecting it. She carried an umbrella on rainy days, but he had seen her twirling and skipping in the rain when she thought she was alone. No matter what she was doing, she was always there, going somewhere only she seemed to know of.

Every day, Vaughn watched her walk by from inside Apartment 248, drinking his evening coffee and kicking off his work boots. He would read the newspaper, snap on the low quality radio in his small kitchen, and wait until her familiar figure came into sight. She was his constant, and he didn't even know her name. What a creep you are, a voice in his ear whispered.

One particularly blustery day, at five o'clock sharp, Chelsea walked on by the apartment complex with a strange feeling. Not knowing that the man whom always looked for her wasn't there today, she dismissed as one of those everyday oddities that really aren't so odd. She only continued on her way, more interested in her destination than the familiar, empty apartment that towered above her. The wind halfway carried her forward, waving her red scarf around like it had a life of its own.

The entrance to the nameless park she visited every day eventually came into view, and a nostalgic smile spread across Chelsea's face. The park gave her more happiness than any other part of the city. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, a man was walking beside her, looking up ahead at the park as she had been doing.

"Hello," he greeted, turning his gaze on her. A strange jolt echoed through Chelsea; his eyes were an exotic violet, the color of salvia flowers she had grown earlier in the year's gardening season. They had just recently wilted back from the autumn frosts, gone until next spring.

"Ah, hello," she stammered in her shock. Who was this unusual, striking stranger? And what did he want to do with an insignificant like her, forever lost in this vast city? There was an unspoken rule in the city, that one doesn't extend friendliness towards strangers past the required common courtesy. More than that was considered strange, for each person had their own lives and business to attend to. Why would they have anything to do with a mere stranger anyway, in the big scheme of things?

"Mind if I accompany you to wherever you're going?" the man asked. Chelsea wanted to point out that he was already doing so, but didn't for fear of offending him. For some reason, she didn't want him to leave her to walk by herself as she did every day. She secretly craved the attention of someone, anyone.

"I don't mind," she answered, stealing a curious glance at him as he nodded and continued walking. She started and took a few quick steps in order to catch up with his longer stride.

The pair entered the park, and as she usually did, Chelsea sighed in content. This was her favorite place in the city; she had no doubt about it. It was one of the few places left that didn't contain an essence of corruption by greed or selfishness. There were still trees and flowers, and the pond in the center was untainted by stinking pollution and trash, thrown by careless hands.

She loved to watch the people who came there at this time of day; adults just off of work, looking for a moment of peace in their hectic lives. Parents still in their work uniforms, with children on their backs, laughing and happy to be able to spend time with them at the end of the day. An old couple holding hands, standing on the small bridge that arched over the pond like a rainbow. A young couple in love, standing behind the grove of trees and holding each other like it would be the last time they would be able to. Maybe it was. Chelsea didn't know, and that was part of the magic.

She led the man to a lonely bench off to the far left side of the park, where the music from the bistro nearby floated conventionally around them. It sounded jazzy and simple, an obvious choice for a modest place like such.

They sat quietly, watching as the park breathed in the life of the city's population. A shriek of bubbly laughter erupted from the old swing set on the other side of the pond, and Chelsea could see a young mother pushing her baby in it. Each time it swung towards her, she kissed his face, sending the infant into bouts of uproarious laughter.

"What's your name?" Chelsea asked, fully taking in the man beside her.

He was not the common city dweller, that was for sure. He wore a tan leather jacket over a black button up, dark jeans, and boots a cowboy might be seen wearing. His hair was silver, much like her favorite kind of weather, but the absence of lines on his face suggested he couldn't have been much older than herself. It was the eyes that intrigued her the most, though. They were like foreign gems, something she'd never once seen on anyone else.

"Vaughn," he answered, looking at her as well. "What's yours?"

"Chelsea," she said, breaking their gaze and looking back out at the park. She couldn't seem to look at him for that long.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, following her gaze. They remained in those same positions, inebriated from the influence of the one of the city's last haven, the rich scents of bistro wine mixing with the atmosphere of calmness. The stars began to appear, and the nameless persons disappeared from around them. No matter how much they'd like to stay, life had to carry on with its fast-paced schedule. The lights illuminating the square flickered out. The old couple was the last to depart, their aged limbs carrying them away into the suffocating metropolis around them.

"I should go," Chelsea finally spoke, getting slowly to her feet and taking in a last look at her park. "It's late."

"Let me walk you back to where you're staying," Vaughn murmured, his voice sounding strangely low. "I wouldn't feel right if I let a lady wander through these streets alone in the dark."

Chelsea smiled, glad that it was dark enough so it was hidden from this strange man. "It's really okay," she said, feeling an unexpected burst of warmth toward this stranger that maybe wasn't a stranger. "I'll be okay. I don't live even ten minutes from here."

He was silent for a few seconds, hesitating, before she saw his shadowed face nod. "If you're sure. Just be careful."

"I will be," she replied quietly, feeling suddenly somber in the mere light of the crescent moon above.

"Goodbye," she offered him, as they went their separate ways. Vaughn turned back around, watching as her figure slowly disappeared into the city as everyone else had. Everyone always had to go back sometime.

"Goodbye," he replied, hoping she had heard. He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and resumed his walking, not looking back.

Both fell victim to the night's grip with the other on their minds, a lullaby to somehow ease sleep in an insomnia-plagued city.

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