by+the+time...

by the time..,
By the time we arrived, the last of the benches was being dismantled. I was desolate. Sullenly trudging back towards the car, I kicked idly at the small sawdust and mud clumps that clung to my shoes and littered the narrow gravel path to the car park. Father tried. "You know there will be another..," he offered tentatively.

I pretended not to hear, scribing circles with my heels, a little shower of stones etched an arc towards the vanishing structures behind us. "so, what good's that?" I shrugged and refused to look at him. This was my anguish. Nothing would ease it. As we drove home, he spoke. I didn't hear. Gazing at the sodden terraces and bus passengers dissolving into the dusk, I pressed my fingers hard into the glass and howled the torment of my lost dream. My sobs had veiled the passing streets and turned my throat raw by the time we arrived home.