Mike

*It was a boring Sunday, cloudy weather and cold air, everything looked more gray, more dull. Mike was on a hidden place in a park, full of trees and bushes. He was sitting on the grass, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around legs with a tight grip, face pressed against his pants. Mike's shoulder's were shaking with sobs and sniffles. The hard wood of the tree hurting his back a little.*