Tuesday, February 28, 2012


It's playtime. She's waiting for you. She's sitting down at a cracked plastic table with dirty plastic teacups. It's tea time, Mr. Nobody. Time for tea. She pours you a glass of imaginary tea and you take a sip. It's the sweetest thing you've ever tasted. You request more, but she shakes her head. Tea time is over. No more tea.

It's time for the swings. She sits on the swings and you push her gently. Back and forth, back and forth. You notice the chainlink holding up the swing is rusted and cracked, barely able to hold together. You push her again and as she swings forward, the chain cracks. You rush forward to try and catch her, but she's already on the ground. She landed on her feet. She looks up at you and shakes her head. Swing time is over. No more swinging.

It's time for the slide. She climbs up the ladder and you follow. The rungs of the ladder feel oily and slick. The slide itself looks old and dangerous. Without hesitation, she slides down and jumps up at the bottom. Then she motions for you to follow. You hesitate only for a second, then go feet forward down the slide. It feels like it stretches on for miles and your stomach flips more than once as the grey sky above you becomes just a blur of motion until you suddenly stop. Uneasily, you get to your feet and look to her. She shakes her head. Slide time is over. No more sliding.

One by one, she takes you with her on the monkey bars, the jungle gym, the merry-go-round, and more. Each one looks dilapidated and disused, old and rusted and ruined by time. But you know the truth: all of this is just how she likes it.

Because it's playtime. And playtime is never over.

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