A man walks up to a park bench. He is tall, and he can see clearly over the nearby stone wall and out across a beautiful, clear blue lake. The man's hair is black, and his sideburns are beginning to gray. His dark eyes squint in the sunlight, the lines on his face make him look and feel older than forty-three. The man's stubble is rough, his features are as stone. He feels his brown overcoat flutter in the breeze along with the rich green grass and the healthy trees that populate the park. The man sits on the bench.

His name is Mason Flint.

Another man approaches. His countenance is bright, and his wide, grey-green eyes shine in the afternoon sun. The man's hair is deep brown, vibrant. Its length is a stark contrast to Flint's, whose hair reminds the newcomer of old military propoganda. The man's face is rounded and young. His smile is dazzling, impressive even against the already wonderful view of the lake. The man wears loose-fitting clothes: cargo pants and a white t-shirt. He is forty-five years old. The man joins Flint on the park bench.

His name is Kennedy Hollow.

"Again, looking grim," Hollow begins in a soft, friendly voice. "Why is it that whenever we meet here, you always seem so down?" He eyes Flint, who merely grunts and lowers his head.

"Mason, you know that I always make time for our chats. It irks me that each time you are so reluctant to speak to me. Have I wronged you?" Hollows smile lessens, but his eyes do not lose their inviting gleam. Flint stares at his shoes, but decides to indulge his associate.

"Perhaps... I find it difficult to be this... open... with anyone." Flint's voice is low and gravelly, and his words are a biting foil to Hollow's smooth and light tone.

Hollow is surprised. He looks away from Flint and out across the park. His diminished smile falters, but only for a moment.

"Maybe you'd find it easier if I try to prompt you..." Hollow turns back to Flint. "Upon what subject do your thoughts dwell with such bleak outlook?" Flint grimaces and runs a hand through his cropped hair.
"If you're being this stubborn I can only imagine that you're sore about a person, evidently someone you care about." Hollow chuckles. "A woman, in other words."

Flint's glare is scathing, but Hollow maintains his cheerful manner. Flint succumbs, speaking again.

"Not this subject, Ken. I've decided that that cause is lost. She'd never..." he coughs. "... I mean... it's better... this way." Flint leans forward and puts his head in his hands. "I'm just tired, man. Let's just say I'm very, very tired."

Hollow has nothing to say. He waits for his friend to speak again. Seven minutes pass in silence. Finally, Flint sits up again and gazes out over the lake once more.
"Your wife," He manages, "she's well?"

Though caught off-guard by the change of subject, Hollow is glad for Flint's willingness to create a conversation.

"Alledia is fine. More than fine. Her research often produces more results than my own." Hollow grins. "Of course, when two geniuses marry there's always going to be competition, but then when have I ever cared about silly things like competition?" he laughs, and is relieved to see that Flint has a shadow of of a smirk on his haggard face.

"I remember when you two used to hate each other." Flint starts. "Back in high school. Never imagined that two kids like that would... well, you get the idea." He falters, and looks at his feet again.

"Why did you ask?" Hollow inquires, hoping his friend won't go back to his silent demeanor.

"Curious. Haven't spoken with anyone from earlier since..." Flint closes his eyes, thinking. "It's been twelve years. Aside from you, obviously."

"You really haven't contacted anyone you knew growing up for so long?" Hollow asked, but he knew the answer from the look Flint gave him. It depressed Hollow, seeing someone who was once the liveliest and most idealistic of all his friends reduced to a grumbling shell of his former self.
"Have you even tried?" though Hollow again knew the answer as he asked the question.

"Why bother? They don't understand. You wouldn't even understand if you weren't a doctor." Flint grasps his knees and sighs.

"What about the fact that I've known you since grade school, Mason? Maybe that aids my insight to your life." Hollow presses, but he still maintains his calm tone.

"No. People change... You're smart. Smarter than a lot of people. That's why you can see..." Flint clenches his jaw.

"I'm smart, Mason. You're right. I'm a doctor in multiple fields and I have an advantageous view into the human mind that few others posses." Hollow's face is serious, and his eyes show compassion as though he were present at the deathbed of a beloved family member. "But that's the only thing I have. Intelligence. Intelligence is nothing compared to the things that you've aspired--"

"DON'T! Don't talk to me about flowery terms like idealism or determination! Those are WORTHLESS in the real world, Kennedy! I'd have thought you would realise that from my mistakes." Flint's outburst is sudden and startling. His disruption attracts the attention of the few people remaining in the park. Flint notices this and becomes embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he grumbles, standing up.
"I'm going to leave now."

Hollow is stricken by Flint's anger, and for a moment is at a loss for words. As Flint trudges away from the bench, Hollow leaps to his feet.

"Wait, Mason." He calls to his friend, jogging to catch up. He puts a hand on Flint's shoulder. "Maybe... since this time we only talked shortly... would you be interested in dinner at my place?" Hollow doesn't know where the request came from, but he is determined to help Flint in any way he can.

Flint does not speak immediately. He looks away, noticing the Sun starting its lazy descent towards the horizon. "At your place?" He asks, though mostly to himself. The weary man slowly nods. "I suppose... if you insist..." he tries to say, but Hollow intterupts.

"Great! You walked, right? Then we'll take my car." Hollow's visage is jovial once more, and he steers a muttering Flint towards the exit of the park.