Lizzy was holding a chunk of rock in contempt. To be more precise, a sculpted piece of ancient marble. A statue.
The epitaph read thus: Jeremiah.
A young man, with a sly grin on his face and an apple in the palm of one arm. The other rested on his hip, elbow jutting outward. And there he stood, amidst the shrubs, oblivious to the bird droppings dripping eternally down his face.
As she ate lunch every day in the park with her co-workers, she hated having to sit near that statue. He seemed to be watching her, eyes never obscured by the white patina. But Lizzy never had the guts to say anything about it, lest she seem odd for being so unsettled by a mere statue.
She hated that name. Jeremiah.
And, one day, she found herself waiting to cross the busy street and caught a glimpse, through the passing cars, of the statue.
She blinked. Dumbfounded.
No, it wasn't, it couldn't have been! She knew how impractical it was, the notion that they'd move him next to one of the lions.
The lions are much better statues than that... that staring guy! she thought to herself.
And as the cars moved again, she saw again. There he was, standing in the flesh, leaning on one arm against the lion... an arm that held an apple. And his other arm, resting on his hip, in the exact same way.
Again, the traffic obscured him from her view. She raised her sunglasses up, onto her hair. And then the cars began to move again, slowly revealing the young man on the other side of the road.
The face, she could see, held the same structure that had been carved so many, many years ago. Black, tussled hair. Striking cheekbones, and eyes that... that were looking at her!
He moved! He stopped and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, fingers still firmly holding the apple.
That was when the seagull flew overhead, and left a pale green blob on the man's forehead. As he cursed, quite loudly, Lizzy disappeared into the crowd. Terrified.