Hanover Park

Their first date: an old plaid quilt spread over damp grass, pint-sized cartons of vegetable fried rice, a wayward kite trapped in the branches of an ancient elm tree. He’d meant to ask her roommate, extroverted and blonde, but playing it safe, asked her instead—mousy brunettes rarely declined. Later, when she climbed the elm to free the kite, he grew dizzy, then started applauding. In his car they touched hands; neither let go.

Twenty years later—Jesus, time flies!—it turns out she wasn’t mousy at all, except for her feet, tiny and delicate and light upon the ground.


Chuck Augello lives and writes in New Jersey. His work has appeared in One Story, Smokelong Quarterly, and other fine places.


Photo Credit: William Matheson

3 Responses to “Hanover Park”

  1. Robyn says:

    Love this. Felt like I was stealing a glimpse of their date.

  2. Campbell says:

    Great story Chuck!

  3. Ah, sweet surprises! Life is full of them and this writer portrays one of them so well.

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