A quaint little park.

It as an idyllic scene. Children were playing and laughing, scrambling up and down slides and across monkey bars, barreling all around the playground in the center of the luscious park. There were soccer moms chatting on some of the benches nearby. The lawns were a vivid, fresh green, dotted with the occasional flower or dandelion. The benches had recently been sanded and painted, leaving a glossy and smooth finish. The janitors were phenomenal--not a single piece of trash was around. Off in a corner of the park there was a recreational area, which included a two vending machines--one for snacks and one for drinks--and several chess tables. Only one was occupied, however, by an elderly man with a kind face and a youthful boy with his brows furrowed in concentration.

It was simply and undeniably beautiful.

A woman, light auburn hair tied back in a tight ponytail, stopped at one of the polished benches and collapsed onto it. There was a click of a water bottle popping open, and gasps as she downed a good portion of the bottle. Gulping down one last sip she would allow herself to take, she closed the bottle and set it on the bench beside her. She took deep breaths, calming herself. Beads of sweat trickled from several different places on her body--her forehead, neck, underarms, and probably some other places. Her face was red, a contrast to the bright robin's egg blue of her eyes and nearly blending with her hair.

She sighed. There was nothing more refreshing than a morning run, as evident by her muscular calves and thighs. After her last child had been born, she had taken an internal vow to work off the "pregnancy pounds"--and more. What started off as a slightly plump woman beginning to let herself go after four children slowly morphed into a beautiful woman with a rather desirable body. She had gone on a health kick, and stayed on it. Where fat used to be lay a six-pack, where flab was now shows off muscle. A slowly forming double chin had disappeared, and the twiggy, disproportional arms had become bigger and more shapely and defined. She looked--and felt--good.

Libby flicked a small spider off of her water bottle, popped the cap off, and took another sip.

Another woman with a similar face to Libby's approached the bench. Unlike the hot mess, Holly was very prim and proper. She had on a nice, long-sleeved, white blouse with a gray pinstriped vest encasing it. A matching skirt hugged her waist, and her hair was in soft waves. Holly figured she should stop on the way to work and chat with Libby.

"Sit down, Holly. I don't know how you can walk around in those heels all day," Libby commented after looking her sister over. Holly frowned, but sat down next to Libby anyway.

"We need to talk."

"Of course we do, Hol. We haven't in SO long... I've just been so busy with work, and with most of the kids out of the house, I've been rekindling a nice relationship with Max, as well..."

"Libby!"

"What? It's not like you aren't married. Be an adult about it."

"I just think private things such as that should be kept private."

"Oh, Holly, you still haven't grown up. We have candlelit dinners out on the patio and go on nice, long walks together."

"..."

"I told you you hadn't grown up."

"Jeez, Libby. I thought you were talking about something else. It's not my fault you've always had a twisted mind."

"... I've grown up. In many different ways. Can you believe that Josiah, Matilda, and Blake are almost fourteen?"

"No. I can't believe it at all. It seems like it was only yesterday that I was holding little Blake in my arms for the first time."

"Does she know about you and Blaine?"

"Of course she knows, Libby, we've been married almost a year--"

"I mean you and Blaine of fourteen years ago."

...

...

...

"No."

"Don't you think you should tell her?"

"I don't think she's ready to know."

"Are you sure that it's not just you not being ready to tell her?"

"What?! It's not me that's the problem in this situation. I just don't think that she's ready to handle that."

"She already knows that Eric's not her father. She came to realize that on her own. I bet you just don't want to tell her."

"No, Libby, it's not that..."

"Do you still love Eric?"

...

...

...

"What kind of a question is that?"

"A simple one. It's only five words long."

"Libby, don't be a smartass."

"I've been one for too long. I can't change now."

"Dammit, Libby! Don't play these stupid games with me!"

"I wouldn't if you'd just answer the question."

...

...

...

"... I don't know, Libby, I really don't."

An invalid man sits on the bench approximately six months later. An ecru sky hangs overhead, the underside of a thunderhead reaching nearly a mile above. He clutches a crumpled brown paper bag in his lap, containing the sticky wrapping of a now-consumed danish -- his first non-aspartame dessert in nearly twenty years. Stubble of three days without a razor lingered on his cheeks and jaw, coming to an abrupt stop below the arms of his opaque sunglasses. The black lenses were directed toward nothing in particular, and obscured not only his eyes but much of the surrounding flesh. Blind, maybe.

Along came strolling by a middle-aged lady holding an umbrella. Being the good citizen she was, she saw the (was he blind?) man sitting down, and awkwardly stopped walking. What was she going to do? She needed her umbrella, it was going to rain, and she was going to have to keep her hair dry..
Nonetheless, Serenity stopped walking to her destination. "It's going to rain soon. Would you like my umbrella?" She asked quietly. Maybe he couldn't see the clouds, or something.

The invalid's fists tighten around the bag, sallow skin pulling against the knuckles, highlighting purple capillaries across the surface of his hand. His head lifts slightly to give the appearance of looking at the woman. In gratitude, he smiles and begins to speak, but only musters an inarticulate whisper -- the result of keeping silent for the same ten years. He tries again. "No, thank you."

"Please. You're going to get wet. Just take the umbrella, sir." Serenity thrust her umbrella into his hands. "I have at least eight at home."

He didn't take it, though the force with which she offered him the umbrella caused him to recoil slightly. "I'm not planning on staying around long enough to be caught in it..." Gently, he placed his hand on the polyester folds, gently pushing it back to the woman. "Now then, why exactly would you need eight?"

"I have kids. They lose things easily.. I like to be prepared." Serenity continued to stand there, holding her umbrella in both of her hands. "And Dianna likes her frog umbrellas. I had to buy three."

"Two?" he inquired.

"Uh-huh. Dianna and Adam." Serenity went ahead and sat down next to him. "Do you have any kids?"

He shook his head, his matted hair unmoving. "It never had much appeal to me to begin with, but then..." He paused briefly, phrasing this as to avoid any resonant suspicion. "I rather lost the chance. Lost track of time, if you will."

A rather small, slightly stout witch with dark wispy hair framing her small, delicate face strolled into the lovely park wearing jeans under a long robe-like coat. She had her hands in her pockets, and her head supported a nice hat. She was walking casually with a huge husky with vivid blue eyes, running around and snapping at grass grazing against his feet and such. The woman's dark skin gleamed in the sun, looking more like caramalized milky coffee than usually in colder seasons. She had aged lines around her eyes, and in the creases from her nostrils to the outer corners of her mouth, which were upturned slightly in a knowing smile. Her dark eyes roamed through the park, until she spotted a woman and another, and strolled over. "Holly, Libby!" she said, hugging both. "How're you two this fine day?"

"They have more appeal than you'd think. I know a lot of people don't want them, but once you have one, you can't ever imagine going back."

"Yes, well, there are other reasons," the invalid closed the discussion rather curtly. "What would bring a woman like yourself out on such a gloomy morning?"

"Oh, my children are off at school. I didn't have anything to do at home, so I just figured it'd be nice to go for a walk. But it looked like rain. I went anyways.. So far I've been lucky. What about you?"

He thought a moment. "I have nowhere else to be."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Raindrops started falling from the sky- big fat raindrops that busted and then splattered more water droplets everywhere. Serenity put up her umbrella over herself and the man next to her.

The invalid looked at the visible line of sky between the horizon of trees and the edge of the umbrella. "Might I ask your name?"

"Oh, I'm Serenity. Serenity Rosensteel. What's your name?" Serenity asked, smiling at him.

He couldn't remember. "That's very becoming," he said with a cordial smile.

"Thank you. I guess I like it, after all this time having it. What's your name?" The rain started to increase. The clouds didn't seem to be moving at all.

All he could draw forth was a passing glimpse he had caught of one of his records a few weeks prior: an initial and a surname, followed by a list stained beyond recognition by a faulty printer. "Astor," he answered. "A. Astor."

"Astor?" Serenity said, perking up immediately. "I was married to a man named Elroy Astor, for a while.. He had a twin named Angel, and their little sister's my best friend. It's raining harder."

"So it is."

Angel.

"You used the past tense there... How did that conclude?"

Serenity laughed loudly. "He left. It was pretty bad for a while, then I dated a gay guy.. And that's been about it for me."