Denise sat on the bright green park bench.
She was like a stanchion right in the middle of the bench.
Anyone who wanted to sit on the bench, the only bench on this side of the park, would have to sit beside Denise. Her tattered hat, patchwork coat, which was less coat and more patchwork, torn nylons and mismatched shoes; were not the pallet that 'one' wanted to share, the bench or the sunshine with.
Denise was not a gambler yet she was taking a chance that no one would sit beside her. People walking past did not want to gamble; to sit was to risk. The uncertainty was, would this rumpled person ask for food or money, would she want to converse or did she carry an unclean odour? The heat from the sun's rays were quickly chilled by the looks that glared her way. The slight chill of Autumn in the air, suddenly, became colder weakening her resolve; to rest, in the subtle warmth of the sun sitting, in the middle of the clear blue sky.
