Paragraph Planet

Slide

You push me down the slide. Slick, slippery metal against my raw legs. It’s cold and wet, even in summer. Prickly rain stings my face. At the bottom, a muddy puddle catches my reflection, lets me float for a moment as I rock along the ripples, unbroken, before sinking me back to you. Now I sit alone at the top of the slide. Frail and gray under the moon. Waiting. Your hands on my back.