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No Hope For The Hopeless At Kings Park

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Jason Medina

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“The ‘60s were a very turbulent time for colored people. Being away at war was a chance for them to escape the racial bullshit for a while. It was a shame it came down to that kind of choice. Don’t get me wrong. There were plenty of guys, who tried to bring that racial crap over there with them. However, when the shit hits the fan, you don’t give a damn about who’s standing next to you, saving your ass. You certainly don’t care what color his skin is or what language he speaks. All that matters to you is that he is an American G.I. Government Issued, baby!”

“Baby, I’m so sorry. You know I wouldn’t feel right, if I ran away from my responsibilities. I’d have to live with that decision for the rest of my life. My being in the war could save lives. My running away will only save mine. It’s a selfish decision to make. I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“A fleeting dream” I once dreamed of us in some hazy, far-off future. We owned a small, weathered house by the sea, a place where light poured in soft and warm, and everything was touched by gold. The day was mellow, the kind that promised tranquility and peace. I covered your eyes with my hands, guiding you toward the little apartment— faded wallpaper, creaking floors, the soft decay of things well-loved. Old green windows and the faint scent of salt in the air. The walls carried whispers of a long time passing. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, because it was ours. I pulled my hands away, and you had seen the sea, endless and shimmering, and in that moment, you were radiant, smiling like you’d found something you never knew you needed. You loved it then, loved it with that quiet look you had— a soft smile that spoke of everything unspoken. You smiled like you’d tasted a secret that could never be shared, and for that moment, we were wrapped in something delicate and fleeting, a quiet happiness that felt too fragile to hold for long. You loved it, loved the way the sun hit the water just right, loved the quiet promise held in the soft hum of the waves. For that brief, perfect moment, you were happy, and so was I, lost in the simple beauty of what could have been.”