Albert’s eyes open and close and open again to a bright, white light too intense for his sunglasses. Arms spread across the back of the park bench, the point of his nose perpendicular to the cloudless sky above, mouth gaping, he falls in and out of sleep until his chin dives forward and crashes into his chest, startling him.
He pushes a button on the side of his phone to brighten the display and sees it’s a quarter past noon. Could’ve spent three hours already on the Liberty Lands’ bench and he’d know no better, though he only arrived about fifteen minutes ago.
About twenty feet away from Albert a shaggy dog jumps up and catches a Frisbee in his mouth and trots back to a man and a child presumably the man’s son. The kid, perhaps three or four years old, laughs hysterically at the dog’s achievement. Albert thinks about what he and his friends did the previous night, their laughter and then their lack thereof, and he imagines what the kid would think if Albert told him all about it.
A short while later Albert returns to his apartment, deletes a name and number from his phone, and sleeps until sundown.