Paige Walcott’s thoughts on what belongs in a park:

Benches: a must.

Fountains: somewhat tacky, but acceptable.

Playgrounds: children are like infections to be avoided. Try not to include these anywhere.

Roses: a cliche.

Big oak trees: lovely if you’re into that sort of thing.

Squirrels: the big fat ones are ideal with their small hands and twitchy tails, though the impulse to grab one around their enormous middles was almost irresistible.

Trash cans: obviously.

Grass: less ideal than native plants.

Moss: oh yes.

Other people: acceptable in small doses.

Paige knew she was walking too quickly, but didn’t really care. Maybe her jogging routine really was paying off because she was two strides ahead of her new employer with great ease. The sidewalk itself was damp, but promised to dry up with the afternoon sun. They were in a local neighborhood with plenty of people outside enjoying the weather before the fall chill really set in.

Paige barely looked behind her. Denial was the best form of medicine she decided. “Sooo,” a chirpy voice called after her. “What are your plans for the day?”

“I have a class at one and then a meeting with my adviser afterward.” She said flatly and also didn’t really care if “monotone” wasn’t the preferred way to bond with people.

Bri sped up to walk next to her. “Do you like the class you teach?”

“The students are fine.” Paige responded blandly. Bri had a notepad in hand and was jotting things down as they went. They were going to their first outing of her new career path: hired artistic help. It would be flattering if it also wasn’t so goddamn weird.

Speaking of weird, Bri was wearing a red-checkered shirt with a navy vest on top and beige slacks. She looked like a miniature professor from a novel that was about chipmunks solving crimes. The thought made Paige at least smile a bit.

“And this park,” Bri plunged on ahead. “Does it have any special meaning for you?”

Paige eyed her warily. “What are you writing down?” She asked, careful to keep her tone sterile as a hospital wing before inspection.

Bri looked up and blinked a couple times. She still had enormous eyelashes that framed her eyes like butterfly wings posed to take off. She looked down, “I’ve composed a list of thousand questions to help me better grasp the essence of a person's being.”

The essence of a person's being… Paige hated that phrase more than she hated icebreaker games that started with ‘tell me a little about yourself.’ It was a phrase meant to induce panic and drain her head of thoughts. This arrangement was probably a bad idea.

“Well, my essence is 10% hydrogen, 3% nitrogen, 18% carbon, and 65% oxygen,” she threw a smile over her shoulder that resembled a vindictive porcupine entering a bouncy castle. “And so is yours.”

Bri rolled her eyes spectacularly. “A little science joke for me?”

“A little science joke for you.” Paige nodded, “here.” She pointed. “There’s the park.”

It was a large sprawling thing with a hiking trail and picnic tables just where the trail head started. The park itself was mostly vast forest and thick fungus.

“Ooh,” Bri leaned forward toward it. “The trees look so big here.” Paige smiled. She liked this place because it had clean paths, clear signage, and enormous old-growth trees covered in moss and gnarled bark. The branches themselves were entire civilizations with crooked, sloping limbs that kissed the forest floor in some places.

“You should see it when it’s misty.” Paige said offhandedly. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

Bri held her pencil up and eyed her with interest. “Do you like fairy tales?”

“No.” Paige said bluntly but then sighed when Bri’s face dropped. “Only the ones set in the woods where the witch eats the children at the end and that's that.”

Bri perked up again. “Very spooky. Mist included?”

“Mist included.” They walked into a small parking lot and toward the picnic tables which were completely empty except for etchings of love confessions and traditional dicks carvings. Bri dragged them over to sit down.

“I have a few more questions before we walk all the way into the woods and toward your witches house to eat me.” She placed the notepad down and they were positioned across from each other like an outdoor job interview.

Paige sighed. “Fine. But remember, you only have two hours with me.”

“I know, I know.” She waved a hand through the air. “Now.” She jerked her little chin up. “We’ll start with something easy…”

“Okay?" Paige leaned on the table with her chin in her palm.

Bri stared at her unblinkingly, “Have you ever been in love?”

Paige scowled. “Pass.”

“What?”

“I said pass. Ask your next one.” She bore her teeth at her employer which was something she wouldn’t have been able to do if this was retail. But then again, most customers didn’t ask her if she’d ever been in love (most).

“Fine,” Bri pouted. “Next one: what’s your favorite poem? And don’t say you don’t have one!”

Paige cleared her throat and sat all the way up, “’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe. Beware the Jabberwock, my son!”

“You memorized it?” Bri raised an eyebrow.

Paige puffed her chest out. “Of course.” She tilted her chin up. “We all had to in the 10th grade.”

“Why the Jabberwocky?” Bri asked curiously as she wrote down the title: The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol with a little note that said “old-fashioned taste?”

Paige didn’t like the feeling that she wanted to impress this girl and tried to squash her natural instincts to show off. She shrugged. “I like the way it sounds… Like Dr. Seuss.”

“Hmm,” Bri nodded as if that told her something, which Paige didn’t like either. Extended ice breaker game hell. “Flow, yes, and a lot of nonsense words too. Hmm.”

Paige snorted. “All poems are nonsense words.”

Bri scowled. “What’s that mean?”

Paige looked away even though the temptation to fight her was just as strong as the temptation to impress her. “Poems are all about the way things sounds, right?”

“No.” Bri’s face flushed. “It’s about the meaning. Flow is important, but you have to say something with it or else it’s nothing.” She seemed to be tearing something apart with her teeth as she said this, a small announcer to an invisible crowd, an argument with a person who had already gone home.

“I guess.” Paige slumped forward on the damp park bench. “Next question.”

Bri examined her carefully, “what do you dream about?”

Paige smiled. “I don’t dream that often.” She confessed. “And I always forget them when I wake up anyway.”

Bri made another face at her. “Alright,” she nodded at the page of notes. “That should be enough for now. You can go on your hike. I need to write.”

“What?” Paige leaned forward to try and read her scrawled handwriting more carefully. “Just from that?”

Bri smiled at her dangerously. “I think I’ve got a basic picture of you.”

That made Paige shiver, but she pushed the feeling down, got up, and decided it was best to just walk away. She turned to go look at the moss on the trees and the ancient bumpy bark and listen to the distant birds.

They didn’t walk together that first day. Paige simply left and lost herself in a ten minute hike. When she returned she found Bri manically crossing out and editing an entire page of poetry.

“You already wrote something?” Paige said, feeling slightly ill. She wasn’t sure if she liked being examined like this.

Bri glanced over her shoulder. “It’s a start.”

Paige hunched over and curiosity burned in her guts. “Can I read it?”

Bri shook her head and stood up. “Not yet.” She sniffed. “Besides, I thought you weren’t that interested in poetry.”

Paige gave a small frown and this time she followed Bri out as they walked. Something clamored in Paige’s chest as they moved. She had read the title of the poem: The Girl Who Doesn’t Dream.

She watched Bri carefully as they left and considered her like one does a new opponent.