Keeping Time- Chapter 5

Tyrone didn't have a single possesion that couldn't fit nicely in his book bag. At least not anymore. Just yesterday, he thought he had Vannessa's heart, in which he valued so much. Now that she was gone, he couldn't find one reason why he shouldn't be also.

Tyrone walked over the long bridge, that led to Gumgrove. For some reason, he couldn't turn back to Tisdale, neither mentally, or physically. So he finally decided to follow his feet to Gumgrove. There were tourists on this bridge, for some strange reason, and Tyrone saw them looking around at the cities. Just down by their feet, he saw that there was a backpack, and sitting loosely on top were a pair of navy blue binoculars. Tyrone bent down and grabbed the binoculars, and bolted all the way to Gumgrove.

The Gumgrove park was a much more beautiful setting. The grass was much greener, the trees were healthier and the birds were of a more beautiful variety. Tyrone climbed a tree by the waterside.  Using his book bag as a pillow, he slept in a high branch. Tyrone was only asleep for about half an hour, when he heard the bus roll gently past the park. Tyrone sat up quickly. The bus never usually comes past here. Tyrone used the binoculars and looked straight at the Tisdale end of the bridge. Though it was a Friday night, it seemed Vannessa was on her way to their old home. He watched her as she picked up the note he left on the bed. It read;

              Dear Vannessa,
I figured you didn't want me around anymore, so I've up and left. Don't worry about my parents, they died three years ago. I don't have a permanent home, and I thought that what we shared was special. But, obviously, you want me gone.

He saw Vannessa sigh, and sit on the couch, out on the deck. Tyrone thought he saw Vannessa look his way, and ducked down quickly.

That morning, Tyrone felt it was time he moved away from Gumgrove, Tisdale, and the entirety of the area. He packed up his bag, and walked over to the "Gumgrove Bed and Breakfast", over the road. Tyrone sat down at a table, as a waiter came around. "I'll 'ave an apple thanks." ordered Tyrone to the waiter. "An apple?" questioned the waiter, resting the notebook. "That's what I said, in't it!?" Tyrone rudely stated. The waiter, looking quite shocked, wlked into the kitchen. Tyrone stared out into the window beside him. The name of the restaurant in big white letters, read back to front on the dirty window. He could barely see anything through the cold, gloomy fog. The people walking by, stared at him and his ratty clothing. "Er... 'scuse me sir, your apple's ready..." said the confused waiter, handing a somewhat deliciously red apple to Tyrone. "Th-th-thanks, I guess..." Tyrone looked around slowly, then leapt up, and bolted out the door. The waiter called after him; "Sir, little sir! That's 50 cents! You 'aven't payed!" Tyrone knew that. He didn't have any money to spend. He stole an old bike from the bike rack near the central park, and rode on into the distance.

Tyrone felt bad about what he had done, but it was all he had known for the past three years. He suposed that just about every town and city were after him now, but his offences weren't really all that grudge-worthy. He thought about Vannessa, about their 'home' of sorts. The people around him must have sworn that a crystal fell from his eye. He wiped it away, but they kept coming. The more and more he thought about it, the more he regretted his ever leaving. With that, Tyrone wiped his tears, collected his small amount of belongings, and walked on in one single straight direction.