Cold in the Park

The winter sun was deceiving: bright but there was little heat. Yerl wore sunglasses that felt like not enough and watched the steam from each exhale. The park was quiet, only a few squirrels ran around the trees. There were no birds, no children, no dogs. Just Yerl on a bench near the stone bridge over the dried up creek. He was cold, but it felt good to feel alive. He was waiting for his contact to show, but was not sure how this could make good cover. He started to wonder if this was not really a meeting but a sacrifice; his sacrifice.