Perfect Day For It

A grey day has left the little playground deserted.

A film of fog covers the slide, but she’s wearing a thick coat. It’ll get soaked, her bum won’t.

In other words, the perfect day. No mothers to give her alarmed looks, no children to laugh at her.

Before her senses return, she slips though the gate and climbs the ladder. From the ground, it doesn’t look so high; up here, she’s glad it isn’t any higher. She sits. She glides down. She goes back for another round.

The day continues to be grey and dreary, but she doesn’t stop smiling.