In the park

People stride in the park. A man in a business suit looks through some documents on the nearby bench, the rustle of printed pages merges with the quiet sound of leaves under the feet of a girl who passes by. A man behind is smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. There are delicate fragrance of the drink and the unpleasant smell of cigarettes.

A few minutes ago autumn sun was still shining brightly, but then  the sky turned all shades of red, pink, orange and yellow. It became cooler, the light breeze bringing from the neighboring houses smell of fresh baking. I remember that I have a bar of chocolate, and I rather want to enjoy its taste. Each piece slowly melts in the mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste, and for a short time sinks in my own thoughts. But noise of cars traveling on the road near the park distracts me. Drivers hurry somewhere, someone signals, someone yells out of the window, but in a noisy stream of cars all sounds mix into a single roar of the big city. But here, in the park, it is quiet and calm, as if time has stopped, people are leisurely walking  along the alleys or have a dialogue with their friends.

I have to go home, and I am reluctant to leave this quiet place. Passing by the river, I see the ducks swimming slowly along the dark surface of the water along the shore. I want to stop and look at them, but I'm in a hurry. Coming out of the park, I again sink into the bustle of the city, and do not notice the sunset, the wind, the smell of fresh baking. I'm going home.