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Weekly Contest #77
There was a space in the park beyond the playground, through the trees. The warmth and the sun had come abruptly, at the start of the school holidays. The playground was heaving; people swarming the café for ice cream and fighting for the swings. But down by the stream it was perfect. The warm air on exposed skin created a shared high; strangers smiled; friends that hadn’t met yet. A boy, wearing clothes the colour of biscuits, the same colour as his skin, skipped across the rocks as if he had just realised he had legs. A Pomeranian skittere...
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