Emma Allen drove her 1996 Honda CRV into the town of Beverly, Ohio. Her dashboard displayed an arrow on the capital "E." She barely gripped the steering wheel; her left hand near "six o'clock" position while her right hand played with her hair. She didn't sleep last night, but she did accompany the moon. Her eyes began to droop that was her hint. She reached for Starbuck's Ice Cold Mocha. On the passenger side, a pile began to form with all her empty bottles. Caffeine was her friend and lifesaver ... the moon and stars didn't keep her up. It was the jittery sensation and pounding of her heart that kept her attention on the road.

She has been driving for ten hours from North Carolina. She wanted a new "chapter," she gave her daytime floral job a two week advance, gave up her apartment, and she decided to head north. Emma needed to find sleeping arrangements for tonight.

Just one pit stop, she thought, this isn't my final destination.

However, her car made the final decision. The wheels started to slow down, Emma pressed the gas pedal all the way down, and she needed it to keep going.

"I'm not going to stop in the middle of the road," she promised herself. Although, this country road had any other cars, she didn't want attention.

Her dark brown eyes wide open spotted a gravel side, an empty area where her car could fit. Emma turned the steering wheel and pulled over.

"I thought you had plenty of gas," she said, talking to the car.

In the backseat, there were crates of blankets, sweaters, t-shirts, jeans, a small collection of books, pillows, and few pictures. No cell phone, no address: email or location. She never continued her phone, email, or location when she has these inclines to move. She would buy a new phone, maybe this time a flip phone with unlimited data ... or does she want her old phone? A Blackberry. Nobody has one of those anymore. It wouldn't be difficult to purchase. Emma dismissed these minor details.

She took her keys out of the ignition, her mud brown boots touched the gravel and her curly brunette hair danced in the wind.

She let out a sigh. And then she walked.

Sixteen-year-old Rayne Williams walked past other teenagers who were yelling and screaming towards each other. She was being dropped off by the school bus. In the back, two teenagers were making out in number 25 and others were standing - acting smart-ass like. The bus driver, Ms. Susan didn't deal with their shit. Every time they would stand, she warned them multiple times using her own voice - it was loud and deep. Ms. Susan didn't have to use any intercom.

"Have a good day, Rayne."

"Same to you."

She was done with their shit. Not Ms. Susan ... well on certain days she was. Rayne pretended to walk towards her standard white house with brown shingles. The school bus put the red stop sign away and drove down the road towards another student's destination.

She decided to not go home. She ran through the grass, her gym shoes were covered in mud.

The sunshine casted down on her neck, her back bag, and her auburn hair.

Everyday, her parents worked six a.m. to seven p.m. Rayne carried a key to the front door, she cooked, cleaned, and had her homework organized and separated them into smaller units so then she didn't have to accomplish the whole assignment the night before. She barely saw her parents, their eyes seem hallow and empty. Her interaction consisted of "good mornings," evening time around the dining room table, and before bedtime to say "good night."

Rayne prepared dinner every night, she would set the dining room table with plates, spoons, forks, and knives. "Here you go," she would say.

When her mother made a decision to join the workforce again, Rayne helped in anyway she could. In the beginning her parents would thank her and would sit down at the table. Now her parents would arrive at any time and took the prepared food from the table and slouch into the couch. No words of affection. No desire to communicate and no questions to Rayne like, "How was your day?"

"Your grades?"

"Any outside activities?"

Their eyes would be fixated on the television screen. Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and then whatever drama filled evening show afterwards became her parent's life.

She tried starting conversations; all to her avail, the conversation died. Silence was born. The actor's voice became their filter.

Rayne shook her head as she continued on foot to her safe haven.

In the middle of a small town called Beverly, there was a park. Small emerald hills edged down onto flatland. This flatland preserved a playground; a metal slide with a circus tent top decorated in ruby and sapphire stripes but dulled from the weather. Attached to the steps that led to the slide, two pairs of swing sets creaked in the breeze. The plastic seats had scratches and tears on them.

A little bit further down from the flatland, a man-made pond stretched and made friends with Canadian Geese. There was an island consisted of rocks piled up in the middle of the pond. A sidewalk surrounded the muddy pond. Four benches evenly spread out welcomed anyone to sit. Green geese poo coated the benches marking their favorite spots.

Emma discovered the small park; there was a wooden sign that declared its name: Liberty Park. She stepped onto the concrete. She had been previously dragging her feet through gravel and dirt. Her boots coated in white and grey dust. There was an enormous parking lot for people to watch football game and concerts like orchestra or boy bands. One Mustang occupied two spots, not even properly in the middle instead the car was slanted.

What an ass, she thought.

She preceded forward to find if there was anybody around ... hoping it wasn't the whack job who didn't understand the concept of lines. In the October weather, the breeze pushed Emma forward down the small hill. Her chest expanded in the cool breeze. Emma spread out her fingers to embrace the air; she closed her eyes to immerse into her senses.

Sadly though, her knock-off Dansko boots got stuck in the semi-hard mud. Emma tripped and fell on her shoulder. The momentum spiraled until she landed on the flatland.

She let out a groan. Her nose invaded the grass. "Damn," she said.

"I would say the same thing too," a voice said over top of her.

Emma began to turn her head.

"Wait - Don't move. You don't want to hurt yourself!"

"I already did," Emma replied.

Emma raised her hands to the ground and pushed herself up. A hand rested on her back.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah. Fine and dandy-"

Emma glanced at her Samaritan.

The young girl had auburn hair, freckles that twinkled on her cheeks, and a friendly smile.

Rayne gazed down at the woman; there was a scar that originated under her eye and ended on her right cheek. Her brunette curly hair bounced in the wind and her dark brown eyes waited for an interaction.

"Thank you," Emma said, pausing waiting for a reply and name.

"Rayne."

Emma nodded. "I'm Emma."

"Where are your parents?"

"Why?" Rayne accused.

Emma flinched. "I apologize. It's none of my business."

"At work," Rayne explained. "If you scold me on stranger danger I will laugh in your face."

Emma's eyes widened.

She's open about her life, why, Emma thought.

"I won't scold you. I'm not your parent."

Rayne fell silent. She started to walk over towards the swing sets; she wanted to check on the woman who rolled down the hill.

Like Jack and Jill ... so childish, Rayne thought.

She tried to dismiss the memories of her mother reading and singing the nursery rhymes when she was five years old. Rayne would flip the thin pages for her mother. Her mother would nod her head to let Rayne know when to flip the page. Also, her mother would run her index finger underneath each word as she said them out loud.

"Rayne-"

Emma's voice pulled Rayne back into the present. Rayne turned towards Emma who had risen to her feet. Rayne gripped onto her book bag that started to slide off her shoulders.

"Do you happen to have a cell phone?" Emma said, "I need to obtain gas or call triple A?"

Without missing a second, Rayne replied, "No."

Emma gently smiled. "That's fine. Do you know where I can-"

"That guy has one."

Rayne faced towards the man-made pond; she observed the talking running man. He was always there when she arrived. And he was doing his favorite thing. Talking on his phone.

Joshua Barry ran around the park's pond, an earpiece practically attached to his eardrum. He chuckled.

"Will do, Mike. There is eight a.m. meeting with the judge. Do arrive fifteen minutes early, so then you can actually be apart of the trial."

"It won't happen again, sir."

"That's what you said last week."

Joshua phone buzzed on his arm, it was a sling on so he could carry his IPod or IPhone without worrying about pockets. He hated the sensation of his phone bouncing up and down in his pocket, and the possibility that it could break. He didn't have time to buy a new one.

"I have another call," Joshua said, barely panting as he passed two geese gliding in the water towards the small island. A box turtle was sunbathing on the top of the rocks. "Talk to you later."

Quickly, he answered the next call. He didn't stop running. He brought his arm and pressed the green circle button. On every other weekday, Joshua ran in the mid-afternoon. His law firm was a ten-minute drive in the heart of Beverly; his schedule consisted of arriving to work at seven and then ate a late lunch, combined with exercise. He would go back to work until seven. He drove home to eat, sleep, and shower. That's all.

His co-worker convinced him to start a hobby.

"I know you've invested time and money into your education to get 'here,' but it isn't healthy to have at least one outside activity?" his sister, Holly, stated.

"There's nothing else that's worth any time."

"Think. Just think about it," she said, "You used to."

Joshua dismissed this recollection; he needed to listen to his other employee on the phone. His feet were warm and ebbed pain. His calf muscle tensed and strained but he didn't stop. He kept going like his energy was endless.

He didn't notice a woman walking over towards one of the park benches around the pond.

Emma was appealed.

Is this Mustang owner, she thought bitterly, he seems inconsiderate.

She had thanked Rayne and then started walking forward.

Rayne observed the situation from afar. She was sitting on the grass ... not yet wanting to dwell on the swing set. She ran her fingers over the soft grass and hoped that the man would help her.

Emma tried to dodge all the geese droppings on the grass and concrete. Her boots were vulnerable towards the poo since dust and mud had covered them earlier. She quietly observed the runner and started to strategize how she should approach him.

Joshua on the other hand had already finished his call. It was a short call, his co-worker had freaked out about losing a vital piece of evidence. When in fact, the co-worker needed to print off a new copy. It was a saved document and the co-worker thanked Joshua million times before he hung up. Joshua enjoyed the power and knowledge he had, though sometimes he wished his co-workers would think for themselves.

It got exhausting thinking for everyone else.

He transitioned his focus on his breathing, making sure he was taking deep breaths in to supply his organs and body with oxygen. He had made a lap around the pond when he noticed when a young woman. Her silhouette shadowed the park bench, which was covered in green and black poo. There were also white droppings from other birds, but mostly from the geese. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. She stared right into Joshua's eyes.

Great another person to share this quiet, isolated space, he thought.

He knew he shared this comforting space with another person. The young girl who sulked on the swings, she would drag her feet into the gravel. Her auburn hair would cover her face as she looked down the ground, and then she would swing. The girl would gaze up at the sky. On rare occasions, she would sit on the bench and observe him. No interaction, she was always quiet. He liked that about her.

Unlike this new stranger. The young woman walked directly in front of his path.

During work, he thrived on correction and knowledge over people. He disdained attention when he's relaxed.

He stopped in his tracks. His legs told him: do not stop. He didn't listen.

"What do you want?" he huffed.

He wanted this silent conversation to end.

"Do you have a phone?" Emma asked.

She knew she had to be straightforward with him. His work out clothes was all in same color black, everything in the right location. Near perfection, he reeked of it. Her stomach churned from his presence.

"No," he dismissed her question.

"I need to call triple A to get someone to pick me up and take my car. I ran out of gas."

"You should've been prepared."

"Thanks," she said, "I will next time."

He turned his head and rolled his eyes.

"May I borrow your phone?" she asked, kindly in a higher pitch.

"I don't have one."

Her smile disappeared. Her dark brown eyes held contact with his gray eyes.

"Fine, be that way. You can say whatever you want to say, but you're lying." Emma walked away from the runner without saying another word.

What the hell, he thought.

Joshua tried to start running again, but he began to watch them now: the woman with the no gas and the young woman.

No phone to call a friend. None. Rayne did tell Emma the closest building would be a mile away - the town center. Emma could call triple A and find gas there.

The nerve of that guy, she thought as she walked up the hill.

She took slow steps to reassure herself that she wouldn't fall again. She turned to see him stretching his arms and legs on the concrete. From those actions, he probably finished his run for the day.

People like him infuriate me, she thought.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the landscape and landed on Rayne. She was settling into her swing. The kindness. The question to verify that she was unharmed. How can someone retain that and give so freely?

Emma pushed her hair behind her ear. She took a chance; she headed to the right trusting Rayne's directions.

Where will I be staying the night, she wondered, hopefully there's an Inn in the town's center.

She ran her right hand over her pocket.

Emma had 200 dollars in cash. Only enough for two nights, food, triple A, and gas. Her mother taught her to remain calm in money situations. She worked as a waiter in different restaurants: local and food chain. Her mother kept a jar of change and had multiple envelops with words written on them: food, gas, electricity, water, and anything else she had to save for. She was the breadwinner ... her father was never apart of Emma's life. In fact, she didn't think her mother told her lover she was having his child. Her mother didn't keep secrets from Emma ... its just Emma never asked.

She recalled the park ... peaceful and quiet ... with the exception of the runner. Rayne's smile with dimples that appeared on her freckle cheeks.

"Guess I'll need to look for a job," she said aloud to herself.

She mentally prepared for the soon future.

Rayne squinted her eyes to observe the runner; he was walking to his Mustang after Emma talked to him. Emma had left. She had told Rayne that he denied having a phone. The exchange between the two lasted only two minutes.

Rayne frowned to herself. She sat on the swing and ran her fingers over the chains. The chains were rusted in the middle, it didn't worry Rayne. She knew the town will be exchanging the chains soon in the spring time. At least that's what she hoped.

"I don't understand why he didn't let her borrow his phone," she said aloud to herself. "Afraid?"

Her book bag was positioned on the gravel and it leaned against the legs of the swing set. Rayne dragged her feet in the pebbles; dust coasted the dry mud on her shoes.

She looked me in the eye, Rayne thought.

Rayne couldn't remember the color of her parents' eyes at that moment. Her hands gripped the chains and started to swing her legs forward and then back. The swing followed its orders and replicated her movement. The height increased, she reached for the galaxy.

Rayne had told Emma, "Goodbye."

She wished she said more, but the words didn't flow free. Either way, she continued her momentum, floating and gliding the air.

I hope she wanders back, Rayne thought.

She connected with Emma.

But her fellow classmates barely talked to her. She was content with this. Anything they said it was all gibberish to her. She has conversations with them but they focus on what's trending. The hashtag thing for twitter. They were not yet mature. Neither was she.

She had phone at home but it was a flip phone. She didn't bring it to school, she didn't want any eyes on her and the questions that would follow her around. "How old is that?"

"Why do you have a flip phone?"

Her parents didn't know what was "popular." Her phone was at least two years old and she hasn't told her parents she can upgrade it. She researched on the internet how much it would cost. She divided their annul salary. She figured out when her parents could afford her a new phone. Three more months ... she will tell them.

Right when she moved forward, she jumped. Rayne landed on her feet; an enormous smile radiated and created small dimples.

"See you tomorrow Park."

Joshua walked over to his car. The earpiece was no longer stuck in his ear.

I did nothing wrong, he thought.

He reached over the middle console for his plastic water bottle. Joshua took off his polyester jacket; the breeze gave him chills since he sweated.

She expected me to lend my phone, he thought, without hesitation.

He ripped the Velcro off his strap and placed his phone in the cup holder.

She trusts too much, he thought.

His phone sang and buzzed from text messages. The attention and deadlines were rattling in Joshua's mind. Not what was due tomorrow, but two weeks ahead.

His forehead was warm and flushed.

"I need to keep going," he said to himself.

He got situated and then preceded to his law firm in town center. He thought about telling his co-worker, well, Holly about the situation. He could image her reaction. He scrunched up eyebrows frowning at him. Her lips in a thin line.

"Now why didn't you let her borrow your phone?" she would have said. "Have no time?"

He pretended to not notice the young woman walking along the side of the road. The same woman who had asked for his phone.

He didn't increase speed. He passed her; in the rear view mirror he saw her face. No hint of anger. Her nose scrunched up and her mouth in a set straight line. Disappointment.

You're lying, he recalled her saying that to him.

Holly popped up in his head. A gentle smile and she shook her head.

"You know the trick about time right?" she asked. This was during his college years, when she would visit him. Sometimes she would purchase Wendys or coffee to help cheer him up. He was laying on top of all his books. He had four exams in one week, each back to back and then two papers along with a presentation at the end of the week. Papers were piled on top of the books and a few were stuffed in between the book's pages.

"No, tell me."

"You make time," she said, "Only you can decide what is important and can select to do it. Time's not bounded. You are thinking it's a boundary."

"You're wrong, these deadlines are a boundary!" he recalled himself yelling at her. In the library ... but now, he stopped his car.

He was a hundred feet away.

Joshua bit his lip, and he moved the shifter back. The wheels went in reverse and pulled right next to the young woman.

Time continued to move forward. October turned into November. November to December. December into January. January to February. And then came spring in March, the oak tree leaves transitioned into emerald and the blossoms turned into a strawberry pink. The gas was shortened from the public service.

Three silhouettes were separate and yet connected. Over time, the silhouettes have communicated, touched, and then the silhouettes would partake in their different activities. The geese droppings disappeared from the bench, and then the silhouettes sat down on them.The park welcomed them back along with other silhouettes.

This is one of my projects for an online class. This was to show how people are connected no matter what. Also, the setting connects people closer.

I hope you enjoy this short story.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this story! Thank you! Thank you!