It was nice, the sun could be seen just above the horizon and the forest to one side of the small park was thick and vivid green. A storm had passed the night before, leaving everything with a fresh vibrant sort of color and little puddles here and there. It almost made the park look less dismal and rustic. The swing-set that used to be white at some point, now a dingy sort of gray brown color, seemed slightly less dirty and prone to collapse if you used it. Next to that the slide, a cheap metal thing, its handle bars were rusted and the slide itself didn't look too stable, was gleaming in all its non-glory with a puddle of water at its end. Then there was the merry-go-round that almost looked like it had been plucked from some scary movie or other, in its black and gray hues and slight squeak when it turned.<br/><br/>There was a reason the park was in such a low state, obviously. No one ever used it. The people in the hospital next to it didn't often leave, not that there were many in the hospital anyhow, so it didn't really get visited. Every now and then perhaps some people would come sit at the picnic tables and eat their lunch, but that was rare.<br/><br/>Then came Friday, who visited the park near on every day if she could make it, weather permitting of course. She had been in the hospital only a little while, since sometime in the year before, after her family had had an accident and she was left memory-less. This was her home. This sterile building with its straight, white walls and the smell of antiseptic. It was a confining home, and one that she could not travel far from for obvious reasons, and so her escape was this dreary little excuse of a park. A place where there was no one to interfere with thoughts, or look at her with pity in their eyes, or tell her how they knew it was hard to go through what she was going through.<br/><br/>This day was a day she had slunk from the hospital, her doctor only letting her go because Friday was somewhat stable and so there was no reason she couldn't go. So there she sat, at her usual place at a picnic table with a book spread open before her. Her brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail, the blond chunk of bangs hanging down in her face to half mask her clear blue eyes as they scanned the page. The book had absorbed her interest, captured her with the fantastical tales where people rarely died, and when someone was dying they could be brought back with a kiss or a bite or perhaps a little blood. Though she knew things like that didn't happen in real life, sometimes she caught herself wishing.<br/><br/>Wind whispered through her bangs, pushing them back slightly, and she looked up briefly to peer around her a bit and check her watch before turning back to the words on the page.