Quiet

/ˈkwīət/
Verb: Make or become silent, calm, or still.

There’s not a lot to do here. I mean we’re not exactly rural but our town certainly doesn’t have entertainment in abundance. I generally spend my afternoons picking and destroying daisies down at the swing. The swing is my place. It’s a quiet, forgotten part of this town. Some kids attempted to burn it down about six years ago and after that no one came here anymore. They did a pretty good job too, considering all there is left is the metal part of the see-saw and the charcoaled swing set. Everyone knows you if you grew up here. Everyone. You can’t walk out the door without someone stopping to talk to you. It’s the reason I have to get up half an hour earlier to go to school. Incessant chit-chat time.

The first thing you should know about me is that I am not a social person by any means. I’m ridiculously shy and always have been; a concept my mother seems to be unable to grasp. She feels bad cause I’m an only child and she thinks not having a father around has stunted my emotional growth or whatever. So my whole childhood was spent having awkward play-dates with kids who couldn’t run fast enough when their mother told them that they were coming to my place. Going to high school hasn't really changed a whole lot, except that Mum is now on the Parents and Friends committee in an attempt to try and get me to go to social events. It’s still my dying wish to shove those tiny cucumber sandwiches down those people’s throats and tell them their daughters have been shagging the rugby team behind their backs.

Anyway this is completely irrelevant. I didn’t write this to tell you about the swing or about my mother. I want to tell you something. It’s not particularly interesting. It doesn’t have that mind blowing edge that every film these days seems to need. However, it’s my story. It’s our story. How I met him and how everything came to be. The day we found it.