She pumped her legs back, then forth, then back again. So did he.
“Race you to the top!”
“Don’t you mean let’s see who swings highest?”
He laughed. Always so logical.
He slowed down on purpose, she stretched her legs as far as they would go.
He smiled and started dragging his feet, and she followed suit.
At a standstill.
“It’s really cold tonight.”
“I can see my breath.”
She pretended to draw on an imaginary cigarette, blew out, and laughed out more.
He started coughing, waving imaginary smoke from his face.
“Secondhand smoke kills. Thanks for that.”
“Oh please, you lost the last few minutes of life when you’re old and dying and it’s at its worst.”
He stopped smiling.
“But my last few minutes will be with you, saying goodbye to you. Do you really want to lose that?”
Her smile melted away as well.
“Then take it back.”
She thought about it, leaned back on the swing, holding onto the chain and letting her hair almost reach the dirt underneath. When she pulled herself up, she was smiling again.
She started pumping her legs again frantically, picking up speed.
“Best two out of three?”
Artwork by Matilda, http://matilda.dreamwidth.org/