The Slick Incline

I pushed past the loosened patio screen and hauled my weight onto the front walkway. The house felt too still behind me. Beside the two brick steps, someone had laid a smooth pine board across the drop. Slick with cool moisture. A clean slope down to the moss. I climbed. One deliberate pull of my front flippers after another. Slow. Measured. At the crest, I paused. I tucked my flippers flat against my ribs and shoved off with my heavy tail. No hesitation. Gravity seized me. I shot down the wet grain in one swift, silent rush, planing off the wood and skidding across the cold velvet moss below.