the missing evening

The Missing Evening

He was always punctual, at least for his own agenda. Each evening Jim would run through the forest just for fun. This summer night was no exception. The night had grown dark but he was not worried, for he knew the woods well. He sped across an old beaten path and glided over rotten old fallen trees. The damp air was wonderful, he thought, because he could run and never get too hot, and if he kept running he’d never get too cold. This forest was made mostly of pine trees, and the needles put a bounce in the young boy’s step and kept him cheerful. At the clearing he stopped, as he always did, and rested upon a large rock and observed the inky-black sky. This was his favorite spot, his secret spot. Stars shined far brighter here then they did in town, and Jim always felt like he could stay forever. He sighed, and pulled his arms behind his head and stretched out his legs. For some reason this night he was especially relaxed. Either school letting out last week o...