Autumn Leaves

Dean Benedetto walked over to his favorite spot at 'Zito' Park, a green park bench seated under an old Spruce tree. He looked at the orange and brown leaves on the ground and sighed. He took a deep breath, let the air fill his lungs, and then exhaled.

A woman wearing a turquoise-blue trench coat, sat at the opposite edge of the bench reading a newspaper. She was middle aged, around maybe 45 or 46 years old, with a slender build. A well-maintained frock of jet-black hair complemented her near perfect features.

Dean stared from her legs to her feet. He noticed that she was wearing black leggings and a pair of black high heel shoes. Looking back up at her, he tried making small talk.

"I have two sandwiches," he said, looking in her direction. "Would you like one?" he asked.

"No thank you," she replied, reading her newspaper.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, still looking in her direction.

"Nope, just came here to read the paper." she replied, continuing to read her newspaper.

"But you're missing so much of this natural beauty." he replied, still looking at her.

"Let me read in peace." she answered back while turning the page of her newspaper.

"Are you always this impolite?" he asked, turning away from her and looking straight ahead.

"Only to people who get all in my personal space and won't let me be." she shot back, still reading her newspaper.

Dean reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a paper bag. He reached into the bag, pulled out some breadcrumbs, and started throwing them on the grass. Several pigeons descended upon the area.

"Must you feed those noisy pigeons while I'm reading?" she blared, her eyes glued to the newspaper.

"Must you be so rude?" Dean replied, continuing to throw breadcrumbs.

"Can't you feed those blasted pigeons somewhere else?" she said, raising her voice, still reading her newspaper.

"Can't you go home and read that blasted newspaper?" Dean retorted, still looking straight ahead. "This is life here. That paper is death, all they write about is death, death, death."

"There's good things in the paper too if you'd read it," the woman replied, not moving her eyes from her newspaper. "Or, maybe you can't read."

"I read quite well, thank you," Dean replied, still looking straight ahead. "And I read the classics, not that depressing stack of recycled psychobabble that you call news.

"What do you know about anything," the woman scowled, still reading her newspaper. "All you do is sit here, bother me, and feed pigeons. Don't you have a home. Do you have a life?"

"I do quite well, thank you," Dean replied, looking at the pigeons. And yes, I do have a home, and I do have a life."

"So why spend it here sitting on a park bench feeding these god-awful pigeons? the woman asked, still reading her paper.

"The same reason you came here to read that trash stock," Dean replied. "For peace and quiet."

"Well, you're ruining mine." the woman replied, still reading her newspaper.

"Someone needs to ruin it," Dean said, dryly, staring straight ahead. "You're so mean."

"Look, I just want some peace and quiet while I read the paper," the woman said, flipping a page. "You call it trash but I think it's interesting."

"I think it's hogwash," Dean replied, watching the pigeons scramble for the breadcrumbs. "Look at all the loveliness around you. Look at God's natural beauty," he continued. "He created all of this for you to enjoy not to ignore with your face behind that papered veil of indecency."

"You enjoy it your way and I'll enjoy it mine." the woman replied, still reading her newspaper. "Sheesh."

"Why are we fighting?" Dean asked, still looking straight ahead.

"I'm not fighting," the woman replied, still reading her newspaper. "You are being annoying. I just came here to read a newspaper, and you keep interrupting me."

"You know this is my favorite place in the whole park?" Dean said, staring straight ahead.

"No, I didn't' know that." the woman replied, still reading her newspaper.

"You can see everything from this one spot. Dean said, still looking straight ahead."

"That's wonderful," the woman replied, still reading her newspaper. "Now can I finish reading my trash stock?"

"I just wanted you to see what the world never gets to see because of the hustle and bustle of life," Dean replied, continuing to feed the pigeons. "We take too much for granted." he added.

"And you're taking me for granted," the woman said, still reading her newspaper and seeming somewhat annoyed. "You won't let me finish reading my paper," she continued. "What if I kept talking to you and didn't let you feed those pigeons?"

"It's all part of the ambiance of the park," Dean replied, throwing more breadcrumbs. "It's only one part of the whole. One thing simply unlocks another."

"We'll, I'd like to finish unlocking these news articles if you don't mind," the woman said, flapping her newspaper loudly. "I like to stay informed, stay current, don't you?

"I like to stay in touch with what's going on around me." Dean replied, watching two pigeons battle for a breadcrumb. "I don't want to read about the ball game I want to go to one."

"And muggings?" the woman shot back, still reading her newspaper. "You want to be around those too, or do you want to know where not to go so the cops can go there and get the guy? That's what the newspapers are for."

"The park is a place of peace." Dean said, staring straight ahead, throwing another breadcrumb.

"The park is also a place to get mugged if you're not paying attention to your surroundings." the woman replied, continuing to read her newspaper.

"Like I said," Dean retorted, staring at the pigeons. One thing unlocks another, kind of like a Rubik's Cube, you have to work at finding the right combinations to get the colors right."

"Oh, so now you're a philosopher?" the woman asked, still reading her newspaper."

"I study life and the motions around it," Dean replied, looking straight ahead."

"And what does your wife think about that?" the woman asked, still reading her newspaper.

"She died 5 years ago." Dean replied, looking straight ahead. "And your husband?"

"Died 8 years ago." the woman returned, never lifting her head away from her newspaper.

"Well, at least now we know we have something in common," Dean said, still looking straight ahead."

"Yeah," the woman said, dryly, still reading her newspaper.

"And so much so the need for two souls to dwell in the park and soak in the beauty of God's wonderful creations. Dean said, still looking straight ahead"

"You know, he created this newspaper and the ink on it too," the woman said, still reading her newspaper. "And he gave us the written word. Isn't that wonderful?"

"You're going to keep ragging me about that newspaper, huh?" Dean asked, still looking straight ahead.

"If you would just let me finish reading the dadblamed thing," the woman said, with a huff, still reading her newspaper. "I just might consider taking in some of nature's bounty with you, Grizzly Adams."

"The name is Dean...Dean Benedetto." Dean said, still looking straight ahead, a hint of anger in his voice. "And yours?"

"I didn't give it, Dean, Dean." the woman replied, still reading her paper."

"Oh, you're the jokester, now." Dean said, still looking straight ahead.

If you can be a philosopher, the woman said, still reading her paper. "Then I can a be a jokester."

"You're slaying me pretty good here." Dean said, slowly turning to look at her.

"Not slaying," she replied. "Slowing, is more like it."

"Wasn't trying to schmooze," Dean said, staring at her as she read her paper. "Just trying to be friendly is all."

"Well, friend," the woman replied. "Let me finish reading my paper."

"Okay," Dean said staring straight ahead again. "You finish reading your paper and I'll just shut up and enjoy nature."

"And then you can take me to lunch," the woman added.

"Oh, so Dean, Dean's going to take a complete stranger to lunch?" Dean asked, turning to look at her.

"The name's Stephanie Marinelli," she said, dropping the paper, slowly turning towards him, and extending her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too, Stephanie." Dean said, taking her hand gently.

The both of them stood up, and just as they stepped away from the bench, a tuft of leaves fell on the bench and covered it.

"We were sitting there that whole time and not one of those leaves fell from that tree." Dean said staring at Stephanie, still holding her hand.

"Guess someone up there likes us," Stephanie said, smiling.