I hastily pulled on my shoes, I only managed to put one arm in my sweater before I scooped up my notebook (out of habit) and headed out the door; to find my sleeping angel.
I hurriedly stumbled my way down the narrow cobblestone lane that led to the park.
I pulled the note from my sweater pocket and finally realized that the handwriting was not normal for a young boy. It was cursive, flowing and confident.
I reach the park. I passed an old man feeding the ducks with his grandson. I passed some college guys playing Frisbee. One of them is cute so I smiled at him. He smiled back and turned to wave, just as the Frisbee hit him in the back of the neck.
From the distance I saw a crowd near our oak tree. There was an ambulance pulled up on the lawn. There is a bench ,by the tree, where the seniors like to sit and feed the squirrels. I wondered if one of them had a heart attack.