Benched

Walking was nice. 

Having fun was nicer. 

But sitting on a bench was… well, I wouldn't say nicest, but… it certainly, definitely, was something. 

Quiet, maybe.

Then again, it wasn't even that. The word quiet and what defines it does not exist within this particular subset of time and space. 

When every split-second of every minute a brand new noise would come and supersede the last, be it the shrill cry of squeaky shoes, the rippling boom of popping balloons, or an entire conga line being formed from a game being held nearby, you start getting the sense that you never actually had experienced a moment of peace in your life. 

And yet against all odds, being in the here, living in the now, I was immersed in a serenity that no elephant of a noise could snap me out of. How I got here, how I achieved this zen, it's a mystery to everyone. 

It probably has something to do with the sleepy vampire laying on my lap—but who knows, really?