You could feel the cold rain seeping into your skin as you rocked back and forth on the children’s swing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t run away. I’m an idiot.

Across from the playground was a convenience store. Just as the rain grew louder, the automatic sliding doors opened.

A man, tall and with an umbrella, walked out. He paused, before approaching you on the swing.

He held out his umbrella to cover you, pulling out his cigarette. “You a runaway?” His deep voice drowned out the noise.