Robert "Bob" Caleb (robert_caleb) wrote in instorm, @ 2017-07-11 18:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | bob caleb, danielle yeats |
Parking
Who: Bob, open Dani
What: Pondering
When: Evening, July 5th
Where: Parkett Park, a bench near the duck pond
Status: Open, ongoing
It had been a day. He was new enough still to restaurant ownership that there were still stumbling blocks. He had a good manager though, so that took a lot of the weight off of him. He didn't need to be there, didn't need to be present, but he often was for a lot of reasons. Right now, he imagined the dinner rush was tapering off, or the pre evening movie crowed was drifting in. From the times he was there, he did notice there definitely seemed to be a rhythm, and now that the brunt of the tourists had parted company with the town, things were starting to settle into normal. Normal for here, anyway. A stray breeze blew a piece of trash across the rain-soaked grass in front of him, and he frowned slightly as he reached out with his mind to steer the trash into a nearby bin. Not so much a twitch of a finger and the rubbish was out of sight. If only everything else could be that easy. Given the weather most of the day, the park was pretty well deserted. A few dogs and their owners in the fenced area. One mom with a couple of toddler-sized kids in the kid-park. But largely it was quiet, and that was what he was after. Sure, he knew eventually someone would find him - someone always seemed to - but he wasn't avoiding. If he was avoiding, he'd be inside his trailer with the shades drawn, probably with a bottle in hand. His drinking had gotten better in the past year, but it wasn't gone completely. The desire was still there, the want for the numbness. The sleep without nightmares that drinking tended to bring. It was easier not to drink when people were counting on him, but that chapter was likely closed for a time being. The one he'd been living the past year, at any rate. There'd be others, because there always were, but for the time being ... he had more free time than he really should. Which was why he'd gone to the park instead of back to his trailer. His eyes swept over the pond, one arm draped across the back of the bench, ears alert for any approaching steps, mind wandering. He was venturing too far back, and he knew if he kept going that way, he was going to spiral himself into a melancholy he couldn't really afford right now. He had a job, he had employees, he has responsibilities. But sometimes ... sometimes it wasn't bad to go back, just a little. |