One summer as break began everyone rushed onto the play area, shouting, and childish agreements were being made on the fate of the swings for the next fifteen minutes. It was finally his turn and as he sat to enjoy the mere few minutes he had negotiated for himself, the chains holding the swing up were unusually loud as he swung back and forth in the summer sun, and, as one snapped he fell to the floor and cut his arm open on the grey razor-sharp gravel beneath. He wished he had enjoyed it better now; the summer sun overhead in his young years where everything seemed so complicated and yet was so simple, the sweet smelling flowers planted left right and centre blooming with vibrant colours of pink, purple, orange and golden yellow- not to mention the uncomfortable dark blue uniform which made them a target for the older children though they never bothered Leo much -his friend put up a mean fight.

Lance, typical blond hair blue eyes with broad shoulders and above- average height was sitting cross-legged opposite the silent street to the now abandoned school. His black Nike trainers, too tight to be comfortable, were untied with the strings barely noticeable in the now overgrowing grass. His black jeans, as always, were folded up at the ends with the untidy stitches blaring out proudly. Leo chuckled; he’d always hated those hideous turn ups. His shirt was worn one too many times and was covered with all sorts of stains – a patch on his shoulder had even ripped slightly. Leo joined his old friend Lance as they sat in the grass looking at their old school exchanging memoirs laughing as they pulled out the grass beneath them and stopped on the brown crunchy leaves blowing left and right as they did.

Lance pulled out a black leather skinned notebook from his pocket and unknotted the strings keeping the shabby book together. He noticed the notebook was filled with small hand written notes and made out the words “old secrets” before lance quickly flicked between the sweet smelling pages with his large rough hands to show his old friend Leo an old picture of them together sitting in the same grass. Leo asked Lance to grab them a drink from the shop just in front of the school a street away. As Lance left Leo took the book and quickly skimmed through it. He knew it was here. The secret Lance had always kept hidden from him -willing to take it to the grave; the reason they were no longer close. If it was anywhere it’d be in his very hands, between the very pages – after all it was important to him. While skimming the book a letter fell out from between the pages and he quickly read it and made a copy from the same pages with the same pages for himself. Lance would never know.

After a few hours of casual chatting Leo got up to leave as the tower clock nearby reminded him that he had errands in the morning. He bid Lance farewell and began to pace down the street with a now straight face in an almost jog. He was not amused the slightest. He felt so betrayed that a fire broke in his chest and his muscular hands broke into sweat as he took out the note of the letter that he had made for himself and reread it over and over until the words began cutting into his skin like glass, spinning around his head getting louder and louder. He was so full of anger that he started to run. Small whimpers fell from his lips onto the dirty floor as he trod heavily past them. His eyes turned ice cold as he swallowed tears of silver and tried not to blink. He never cried and he wasn't going to now – he knew what had to be done. The morning chores had to be delayed.