by Mark Mahon

Created on: July 29, 2009

The Pillser Pharmaceutical Company always conducted a Christmas function to reward the employees for their yearly efforts. This year, it was held in the Amberly Memorial Park. Fred Chambers, the Chief Executive Officer, had flown his family across from the east coast, at the company's expense, to enable his family to experience the pleasures of the west coast weather, and to demonstrate to the employees that he could.

On this occasion, the weather was ideal. Sunrays pulsing in from a slight angle were fanned by a whispering southwesterly breeze. The layout of the park was suitable for the gathering. A tree line was punctuated by discreetly placed shelters; each allocated a bar-b-que complemented by ambitious employees combating to display their cooking prowess whilst engaged in complex shoptalk. Expanses of lawn facilitated little pockets of different activities where the children gathered, also in pecking order, to throw balls and swing bats and run and jump and do all sorts of kid things.

On the other side of the park was a state of the art playground. It was erected over padded mats instead of sand, which could conceal the used hypodermic waiting in ambush with a residue lying at its point that could change a life. At the northern end of the playground stood a once, or maybe more than once, restored ancient tramcar, which was probably donated to the local authorities long before any of these people were born. Peeling green and yellow paint flaking on the outside was not very appealing to the children of today who expect the colourfulness of modern materials. Inside were rows of seats made out of hard wood that is quite valuable today, mostly because there is none left. Somewhere in the middle, eight-year-old Mat sat by himself, looking at the outside activities through frosted windows and swinging his feet backwards and forwards because they did not quite make it to the floor. He felt somewhat lonely but it wasn't as bad as he would feel if he had to join in with the competitiveness of what was happening out there.

"Can you believe that my mom made me wear these shoes with this dress? Anyone knows that red does not go with these colours. She just doesn't care. What's your name?"

Mat flashed his eyes around to the entrance of the tram and they were absorbed by a girl about his age quick stepping through the door and talking just as fast. She had long pure blonde hair that flitted with movement like when models have fans pointed at them

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