Spring reverie

Owen just simply loved to spend his lunch break on a park bench, thinking about nothing much at all. The gentle breeze carried the joyful sounds of children playing and laughing in a nearby school yard, their high notes mingling with the liquid triolets of the trickle of the old fountain. 
He ate his sandwich while spying the cheeky starlings from the corner of his eye, amused by their frantic dance in search of crumbs. 
He felt with immense satisfaction the warm rays of the spring sun on his face, knowing full well that their caress would soon grow in intensity, as the whole sun-starved country rushed towards a summer that would be long, and warm, and fragrant. A summer for love to blossom. 
He wished he had the power to stop time. 
He would have given anything to make this moment last, and last, and last.

Except that he was bursting for a piss.

Bloody trickle of the old fountain.