Shadowplay

SHADOWPLAY

Caleb Hunter rested his elbows on his desk. The small white carton of pork lo mein that rested between them had been empty for almost fifteen minutes. As usual, the remaining portion of his lunch break was spent looking out his office window.

He sighed and rubbed his fingers against the streaks of gray encroaching on his temples. Across the street below, children frolicked, screaming while they chased each other and clambered over the playground equipment erected in the park. One young boy sat atop a large rock on the outskirts. His sneakered feet swung back and forth, heels striking the plaque bearing Caleb’s name amongst the donors. Each unheard thud against the metal reminded Caleb of the beat of a younger, healthier heart.

How old was I the last time I hung upside down on the monkey bars until I got lightheaded? Or played kickball? Or had any actual fun?

The laughter below dredged Brian’s grin from the depths of his memory, a lopsided assortment of gaps and baby teet