London Fields

She had seldom felt heat like that in London.

It had been the hottest day of the year. There was smoke everywhere, and the smell of barbeque permeated the air. The sun was relentless and there was no shade, grass gave way to large areas of dirt and burn. The grass felt rough and dry –– from a heavy summer of barbeque revelers who would make their way to London Fields and camp out. There was an almost permanent fixture of bicycles, barbeques, booze and music, with the occasional hiss of a nitrous oxide balloon. Although, nothing remarkable happened that evening, she remembered the heat. She wore blue jeans; the fabric was stiff and it stuck to her legs in a glaze of sweat. Every time she sat up and down her movements felt somewhat jerky. That detail stuck out clearly. When she walked into the barbeque area a feeling would settle over her. It was as if a protective bubble existed around it; a bubble of good times and possibilities. It was their home away from home that summer. A strong pang of homesickness suddenly hit her, a nostalgia for times past that she would never get back. A creeping melancholia started to settle over her and she quickly brought herself back to the present.

At some point in her reminiscing they had entered the barbeque area, and were standing right in the middle.

‘It’s so empty,’ she looked around.

The grass was long and green, it had not taken its usual beating. It was now just a regular, run of the mill park. Except it was quiet and empty. The atmosphere felt flat, there was no bubble; no possibilities. It felt like her memories were slowly slipping away, they had nothing to hold onto in this new place. It was a Saturday and the heat was soaring yet there was no one here, no atmosphere, no excitement. She felt like she could almost hear a syncopated beat in the distance, of the music that generally blared out of the portable speakers in the park, the sounds of a British summer: reggae, jungle, garage. It fell away into silence, and birds.