mandatory fiction--the joy of wind and self propelled motion

In pursuit of flight, she purchased in the thrift shop a pair of well-worn roller skates. They were size three, no key required, lace up electric-blue with tazer-purple wheels. They matched perfectly her pink-ridged skirt, her favorite red t-shirt, her pom-pom hat. As she tied on the skates, she felt an immense sense that she was starting a venture that would lead to distinction, awards, and greatness. This sense only increased as she got to her wheeled feet and started down the sloping asphalt driveway. She skated tentatively at first. Then faster and faster, sometimes in loops or close circles. Then in a particularly tight turn, she lost her balance and fell, her hands taking the asphalt brunt of it. But the stinging didn't stop her from getting up again. Or from falling again after a few more minutes of asphalt-zooming. She fell and fell and fell and fell and fell. She gradually realized she was not going to be in the driveway-skating Olympics. Not this year anyway. www.adamszymkowicz.com