There is a man leaning upon the tree that’s shade was previously occupied by a large, lounging woman. He has shaggy hair and dark skin. His pants are clean, and his socks are matching. He leans upon the trunk in a strange manor, adjusting his stance every few minutes, as if he's trying to look casual, but he still seems uncomfortable. He briefly walks away, returns, and leans again, this time facing the other direction. Then, without warning, he turns around and walks towards a holly tree. Looking inward, past the dark leaves, focusing on the empty, just before the branches reach the tree. He walks around, observing from several angles, before walking across the concrete, and observing an identical tree in the same way. He does this for a while, but before long, and again, without warning, he collapses in the grass.
He stays motionless and slack jawed long enough for passers by to begin worrying about his well being. But he gets up sooner or later, and after a few moments of pondering where he might be, he returns to his tree, and sits down, facing the ferns that surround the park. His gaze soon lingers from the flowers, to the dirt, to the grass, to his hands that he sobs into. He stays there for a while, occasionally wiping his eyes so that he can see the ferns more clearly.
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