A Buoyant Plunge

I stood atop the padded vinyl rim of the ball pit, surveying the chaotic sea of primary colors below. Setting aside my customary hesitation, I leaned forward and stepped off the ledge. A muffled, hollow clatter erupted as dozens of plastic spheres gave way beneath my boots, surging upward around my knees and waist. The shifting pool refused to grant me a firm foothold, rolling against my rigid joints in unpredictable waves. I extended both arms to stabilize my footing, resting my hands upon the bobbing surface. It was a delightfully disordered spectacle, entirely detached from the quiet discipline of the stage.