Silent

Fumbling with some zippers, I pulled out my phone and checked the screen. Nothing, as I expected, but I like to make sure. I shoved it back into my little blue bag and set it on the cool, wet cement below me. My bag is always unaffected by the the rain.
I could hear the surrounding trees whistle as a breeze came my way, making the swings sway and the autumn leaves shuffle on the ground.
I felt connected to this place somehow; like it's where I'm meant to be. I've made this park my home, unlike the many others who seem to come once and never return. The dangling swings and big metal toys have remained untouched for years. Most people just come with their big Nikon journalistic cameras, take a few pictures and then leave. I don't quite understand why; it's not a particularly beautiful or unique park, but I stay out of their way and let them capture any images they all seem to be going after. It's like they're trying to absorb anything that's ever happened here.
The rain left a tapping noise on all of the fallen crunchy leaves, making silence impossible. These are the times I love, because my whole life is silent. No one ever talks to me. No one ever sees me.
I don't remember where I was before here, but I have not left this park in about 3 years.