Blue Slope

I pushed past the tunnel mouth into the open sun. Ahead, the park wading pool lay wide and hollow in the red brick plaza. An empty blue basin. At the bottom, a shallow sheet of rainwater caught the afternoon glare. I paused. The painted slope fell away before me. With a steady thrust of both flippers, I tipped my bulk over the curved concrete rim. No resistance. My smooth belly glided down the blue decline in a swift, silent rush, shearing straight into the pool. Water flared in twin sheets across my flanks. Wide ripples bounced off the circular walls. I let my jaw rest on the submerged drain. Vast basin. Moving rings.

1 Nauk