Nighttime Slats

The drinking fountain was left behind as night settled in, and my feet carried me toward a dark wooden park bench beside the path. Those long, parallel wooden slats stretched out like a ready runway. I leaped off the gravel curb, landed with a crisp tap on the edge, and broke into a full sprint across the bench seat. Each gap between the polished timber boards made a sharp click under my shoes. Right at the armrest, I caught the curved iron loop with one hand, swinging my weight around the corner and sliding to a smooth halt against the cool wood.