Post by MATTHEW PETERSON on May 30, 2011 9:09:26 GMT -5
As far as parks went, New York really had nothing on California. It was one of the few compliments Matthew Peterson was willing to give that goddamn State, and it certainly wasn't going to be a belief made known to the outside world any time soon. Not that anyone in their right minds could possibly put Central Park in the same category as Muir Woods; skyscrapers and clear-cut pathways were all good and enjoyable in their place, but there was certainly something to be said about dirt and trees and the real outdoors and the feeling that if you could only actually climb one of those gigantic redwoods you really would be on top of the world. No, New York had absolutely nothing on that feeling. Even so, Central Park was better than no park. It was better than a lot of parks, just not Muir Woods.
Sure, all the basic elements of a park were there; it had benches and trees and picnickers and dog-walkers and generally empty places for pondering, but it just didn’t have the same sort of feel to it. There was an emptiness to New York’s “outdoors” that irked Matt, something that nagged at the back of his head just enough to be bothersome without truly knowing what it was. But there were a lot of things like that. Things that were just better left unthought-of, tucked neatly inside the locked drawer in the back of his mind where everything he forgot about went—which was quite a lot fuller than most peoples’. Again, not that he was aware of such.
Matt’s strides were those of someone who wanted to get lost; leisurely, they went well with his casually whistled tune as he found himself taking winding pathways and shortcuts he’d scarcely known existed even after days of exploring the park almost non-stop. He might have passed by the same oak tree over five times on his venture. But then again, maybe not. He might have gotten over a dozen strange looks from the elderly couple on the bench he passed by a dozen times, but what did it matter, really? He was just whistling. It wasn’t disturbing the peace, as he’d told them; in fact, their glares had grown rather more intense since his snapping at him, not that he particularly cared. Michelle would have hated his wandering. She hated most things Matt enjoyed, save his coming to New York in the first place—and that she’d only liked because she’d thought he’d hated the idea. He really was quite brilliant to come up with the idea of tricking them like that, wasn’t he? Yes, he decided to himself with a small nod mid-stride, it really was rather clever. Just as it had been clever to sneak off campus during Psychology class to come to the park in the first place. Being the new kid and all, they’d probably just assume he’d gotten lost somewhere and wouldn’t even reprimand him for it. He’d tell them he didn’t mean to, that he’d taken a wrong turn down the hall and ended up on the opposite end of the school with no way of getting back. Or maybe he’d never even made it to the dormitories. Or maybe he’d simply tell them he was helping a particularly slow woman cross the street and couldn’t bring himself to let her get hit by a car. He chuckled a bit to himself at the thought of that one—more the idea of an elderly woman being hit by a car than anything. It probably wasn’t the best thing to chuckle about, but who was to question him about it?
It was with this particularly rebellious feeling of triumph over the lack of Thought Police that Matt emerged from a somewhat confusingly wound path and into onto an area of clean, fresh-cut grass just a few yards from what appeared to be a lake. He shrugged, not concerned in the slightest that there was no way in hell he was ever going to get back the way he came. He’d already forgotten which direction he’d emerged from, after all. Although whether that was the fault of his general forgetfulness or the presence of the figure seated on a rock near the water’s edge remained to be seen.
He stepped forward cautiously, head tilted slightly to one side as he crept toward the figure, completely unaware of the utter bizarreness of this act. She looked young from the back—older than him, certainly, but still young—and had long red hair that seemed to glint in the sun in an almost curiously unnatural sort of way. But he hardly noticed that. Instead he bit his lip at he stopped his advance, just a few feet behind the woman and to her left. He cleared his throat once, loudly. “What’re you doing?” It came out rather rude, of course, but at least the curiosity was genuine.
Sure, all the basic elements of a park were there; it had benches and trees and picnickers and dog-walkers and generally empty places for pondering, but it just didn’t have the same sort of feel to it. There was an emptiness to New York’s “outdoors” that irked Matt, something that nagged at the back of his head just enough to be bothersome without truly knowing what it was. But there were a lot of things like that. Things that were just better left unthought-of, tucked neatly inside the locked drawer in the back of his mind where everything he forgot about went—which was quite a lot fuller than most peoples’. Again, not that he was aware of such.
Matt’s strides were those of someone who wanted to get lost; leisurely, they went well with his casually whistled tune as he found himself taking winding pathways and shortcuts he’d scarcely known existed even after days of exploring the park almost non-stop. He might have passed by the same oak tree over five times on his venture. But then again, maybe not. He might have gotten over a dozen strange looks from the elderly couple on the bench he passed by a dozen times, but what did it matter, really? He was just whistling. It wasn’t disturbing the peace, as he’d told them; in fact, their glares had grown rather more intense since his snapping at him, not that he particularly cared. Michelle would have hated his wandering. She hated most things Matt enjoyed, save his coming to New York in the first place—and that she’d only liked because she’d thought he’d hated the idea. He really was quite brilliant to come up with the idea of tricking them like that, wasn’t he? Yes, he decided to himself with a small nod mid-stride, it really was rather clever. Just as it had been clever to sneak off campus during Psychology class to come to the park in the first place. Being the new kid and all, they’d probably just assume he’d gotten lost somewhere and wouldn’t even reprimand him for it. He’d tell them he didn’t mean to, that he’d taken a wrong turn down the hall and ended up on the opposite end of the school with no way of getting back. Or maybe he’d never even made it to the dormitories. Or maybe he’d simply tell them he was helping a particularly slow woman cross the street and couldn’t bring himself to let her get hit by a car. He chuckled a bit to himself at the thought of that one—more the idea of an elderly woman being hit by a car than anything. It probably wasn’t the best thing to chuckle about, but who was to question him about it?
It was with this particularly rebellious feeling of triumph over the lack of Thought Police that Matt emerged from a somewhat confusingly wound path and into onto an area of clean, fresh-cut grass just a few yards from what appeared to be a lake. He shrugged, not concerned in the slightest that there was no way in hell he was ever going to get back the way he came. He’d already forgotten which direction he’d emerged from, after all. Although whether that was the fault of his general forgetfulness or the presence of the figure seated on a rock near the water’s edge remained to be seen.
He stepped forward cautiously, head tilted slightly to one side as he crept toward the figure, completely unaware of the utter bizarreness of this act. She looked young from the back—older than him, certainly, but still young—and had long red hair that seemed to glint in the sun in an almost curiously unnatural sort of way. But he hardly noticed that. Instead he bit his lip at he stopped his advance, just a few feet behind the woman and to her left. He cleared his throat once, loudly. “What’re you doing?” It came out rather rude, of course, but at least the curiosity was genuine.
