The use of significant detail in writing

¶ … Exercise

The harsh rays of the sun hit my skin with its indictment. The wind whispered harsh and hot non-words to my tortured skull. "You did this," it seemed to say. "And you will pay." The pavement under my feet was harsh as I tried to but could not run. If I run everyone will see and guess terrible things. They will know the unimaginable. My mind wanted to turn my feet back. My heart wanted to move them forward. My feet were confused and listened to neither. I stood still under a big oak tree and simply breathed. How could I? Was this really the thing that I had become, or was it part of some terrible dream?

The oak tree sheltered me from the sun's truth for a while. I would rest here. It was a good spot with the park forming a sharp contrast against the busy street. I had never before wondered why they would put a park so close to a busy intersection. Maybe it was someone's skewed sense of the aesthetic. But who was I to judge the aesthetic or the malfunction of sense?

I sat on a hard bench and the wind, previously hot, had now become a cold breeze. It carried with it the scent of blood and betrayal. How I would have condemned such cowardice in the past. Now I could not face my own home. The breeze brought to me the sound of my child's tears and my wife's blame.