[ IP ] Park bench at night

The first time I read a book on a bench, I was 19 and had just got myself locked out of a friend's place by way of idiocy. After arriving late afternoon off the train and heading back to his, it was already past time he left for work, and so I, after succumbing to the eternal recesses of boredom commonly referred to as a'half hour' of waiting, took my backpack and ventured out the door. To realize my mistake, I had no key. I texted my friend the situation, and all he could offer was 
 
 *'Not back'til late, go see the city'. * 
 
 So I went. 
 
 To find this bench. This park, this idyllic patch of quiet that gently scratched at the itch I had just discovered existed. Looking at the thing, the cobbled stones a pedestal just for me, the light over the shoulder that may as well have had a bedside table, and the bin just within arm's reach, I almost sighed like from a massage. 
 
 I racked my brain for things I could have done to deserve such a luxury. Was it the fiver I once gave to a homeless guy? Or the time I stayed an extra 10 minutes at work after my shift ended for free? Regardless, I made the decision to monopolize the hell out of this opportunity for some hardcore reading. 
 
 Bringing me right down to it. Which book to choose? Of the 3 options, only one was a novel long enough to last ( the other two were selected poem books ) but it was hardly fitting for the scenario, being a murder mystery novel and all. So I sat, unzipped my bag, and whipped out the poetry. E.E. Cummings. Classic. Life, love, off punctuation, prostitutes, it had it all. Or Maya Angelou? Life, love, race, parties, a female perspective. A laugh escaped from me as the sun glinted through the branches, teasing. It was early yet, I could read both. Go a bit mad. 
 
 I picked Maya first. 
 
 Only to be interrupted. A leaf fell on the contents page. The leaves were falling. The leaves were falling? The month was August, which despite the shared'Au' does n't reside in Autumn. I think. Yeah. I know. Does n't. But the leaves were falling. 
 
 Luckily, as it turned out. Looking up at the trees, my gaze caught on a girl. I have to take immediate action, so as not to fall in love, and remind myself that this happens far too often for it to *actually* be love and that love at first sight is a myth to make attraction more romantic than just'You're hot'. Then something extraordinary happens. She *doesn't* avert her eyes in disgust. She smiles. She walks toward me. My pocket vibrates. I get a text. 
 
 *'Almost done, on a break the now, seen anything?'* 
 
 I look up to see her hesitate. I hold up my finger in an attempt at nonchalance and text very quickly; 
 
 *'Yes. Back late.'* 
 
 `` Sorry'bout that.'' I shimmy left and point to the right side of the bench just as she does. `` Uhh... you can uh..'' `` You sure? Thanks!'' 
 
 `` Sorry I was kind of rude there, that was my friend, he just-'' 
 
 `` No! No, it's fine, really.'' 
 
 I look to be sitting for a near-eternal recess of boredom when- 
 
 `` Is that Maya Angelou?''
