Notes

Crisp, clear. That was what the day was like. She walked over that simple path she knew like a friend. The trees were thinner now, their leaves coating the floor. She looked up, she could almost imagine the darkness of the sky that night. Almost see the stars through that branch. Looking at the ground suddenly almost tripping over a branch. A smile creeps onto her face, remembering almost tripping here before. One foot after the other falls onto the ground, as she walks along the path. The floor still scattered in cigarette boxes, glass bottles and the occasional condom wrapper. This place, however damaged, dirtied and destroyed, stood for something greater. She had found happiness here, sadness as well, but also happiness. Reaching up to tuck a strand of greying hair out her wrinkled face, she stumbled onwards, Stopping in a clearing. She sees the tree stump ahead of her and a sad smile appears on her face. Sighing and quickly looking around, she notices the ladder made out of scraps of metal leading to the train tracks. They go up there to fix them, but to her that was her way out if she needed it. Looking at the ground, she closes her eyes. Flashes of her past go before her eyes. She's Running down this path. She's crying on that bench. She's dragging a blade across her skin. She's kissing him. She's drinking on her own. She's smoking her first cigarette. Stop.
She flicks her eyes up, and sighs and begins what feels like the longest walk of her life to the tree stump in the centre. Looking down at it and running her hand over the surface. There it is. She traces her hand over the mark in the Wood... It has lasted this long. Her hand shakes, she's old, she feels it in her body. Each step. A tear drops onto the surface of the wood and she quickly turns away from it. She hears his voice again. "Meet me in our place", where was he now. Dead for all she knew. It had been so long. She never loved him, she loved this place, loved the feeling that came with it. This was her place. Now as she walked back down the path she looked back at the tree stump and her initials carved into it. Glad she had come here to say goodbye. The leaves crackled under her feet. She passed the bench where she had lay, crying to herself. She passed the small opening that lead out into the park, the park that she watched someone she once knew get three girls numbers, within half an hour. She passed the oak tree she had brushed her hand over so many times. She walked more steadily now. Like she had completed her final right of passage. She came off the path for a final time and was helped into a wheelchair then pushed away. A final time for everything. As she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

A man passed, he was alone, struggling with a walking stick. A face lines with troubles, guilt. He walked the path also, traced his hand over the tree and stood at the tree stump. A small smile passed over his face. He remembered her so clearly. "When did you last cry?" He remembered her asking him that.
"Now..." He whispered. As tears fell so suddenly down his face. Remembering everything. Everything he had done wrong with his life, everything he had lost. Every regret.

They say when your on your death bed you don't remember the things you did, but the things you didn't do. He looked up at the metal ladder. She had told him about that escape route. Now, after all this time, he would take it instead of her.

Neither of them had meant that much to each other. At least, they had thought that. Even now, at the end, they still didn't see it. You didn't have to love someone, or even like them, for them to be the most important person you ever met. Some people touch your heart.
And each of them had.