We stayed till the sun left. Her reading. Me watching.

It was quite the journey to get there. Three buses. A stretch on foot. Not her local park. Not even close.

She’d chosen one far away on purpose. A place that felt like a reward for those who found it.

It was warm enough to sit on the grass. Not blazing. A gentle breeze danced to take the edge off.

There were children nearby, kicking a ball too close to ducks. A man passed with a dog (that didn’t bark). A group of teens sat in a circle, rolling cigarettes.

I didn’t bring a blanket to sit on, but she had one. Yellow. Patterned. Plucked straight from an old family photo.

She laid it out under a tree, close to the path but away enough that it felt private. She looked around. Then pulled out a small wicker hamper and a book.

A young woman with long dark hair sits alone on a yellow picnic blanket beneath a large tree in a sunlit park. Her back is to the camera as she reads a book, with a wicker hamper and a bottle of lemonade beside her. In the distance, children play near a pond and small groups sit on the grass, all bathed in soft, golden light.

Her picnic was nothing fancy. But still perfect. A sandwich, some fruit, a bottle of cloudy lemonade that looked like childhood.

I didn’t eat. Didn’t say anything. Just wanted to watch. Take it all in.

She ate slowly with one hand. Her book poised in the other. No rush. Every bite considered. Part of the experience.

Once, she put the book down and laughed. So much joy. The page had whispered something just for her.

I wanted to ask what it was. What makes her laugh like that? Instead, I let her have her moment. Lost in her story.

She wiped her fingers on a napkin, used it to gently shoo away a wasp or fly. Then, back to the book. Legs delicately folded to one side.

At one point, she took off her shoes and pressed bare feet into the grass. Leaned back. Eyes closed. Glowing in the sun.

Everything about her felt deliberate but peaceful. She was happy. She belonged right here. With me.

It stayed like this all day. Her reading. Me watching her read. Nothing between us.

When the sun started to slip, she caught my shadow and looked up. A long stare into my eyes. A special look she reserved only for me.

She packed her things. Folded the blanket with precision. Tucked everything back into her Prada bag.

Then we left together. I watched her skip to the bus stop as I walked back to the hire car.

A glorious day for one of her last.

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